


Silence the Only Veil

by allofuswithwings



Category: Muse (Band)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Dirty Talk, Dubious Ethics, Dubious Morality, Light Dom/sub, M/M, POV First Person, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:15:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 35,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28677276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allofuswithwings/pseuds/allofuswithwings
Summary: Chris discovers something he didn’t want to know, and is torn about his feelings toward it.
Relationships: Matt Bellamy/Dom Howard, Matt Bellamy/Dom Howard/Chris Wolstenholme
Comments: 3
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Imported from Livejournal/Dreamwidth. Originally published between October 2008 and January 2009.
> 
> It has two endings because I couldn't decide which I liked better. One is character-arc appropriate, the other is more fun.

A few weeks ago, I would have laughed at the thought.  
  
  
Rolled my eyes and shook my head like everyone else.  
  
  
Because that was the point then; it was a joke and nothing more.  
  
  
Everyone always said it too, how you are with one another was way too intimate for just friends, and that you must be secretly shagging.  
  
  
Our mates said it, the press said it, shit even the _fans_ said it and they wanted to sleep with you.  
  
  
And I guess that was the thing, wasn’t it? Plausible deniability. If anyone really suspected anything, you could say it was just silly rumours again, or you were both playing up to the joke.  
  
  
But I know better now. I wish I didn’t.  
  
  
Let me start at the beginning.  
  
  
Several weeks ago, we set back on the road to tour again, much to my dismay, I might add. I had wanted to spend some more time at home with Kelly and the kids, but it wasn’t to be. There was a fuck up with the tour bus, and somehow we got sent the wrong one; it wasn’t big enough. Well, it was big enough for us three, Tom and a couple more crew, but no room for my family and barely enough sleeping space for us that _were_ on there.  
  
  
As a result, I got jammed into the back section with you two with tiny bunks and hardly enough room to squeeze past one another. We got told it would be fixed up at the next city, but that was a few days drive away, and Kelly would have to meet me there. You two didn’t seem bothered at all, but I know I was right grumpy bastard when we started off.  
  
  
Not that I hate spending time with you guys or anything, but I just wish I could have my lovely wife here too. Kelly...oh Christ I feel so fucking horrible. She doesn’t even know, about you two, about what I did...  
  
  
The thought makes me feel sick, it even did before, but I did it anyway. I have no way to explain it. Other than being a typical arsehole man who only thinks with his dick.  
But I’m getting ahead of myself.  
  
  
We drove that first day, across whatever country it was, I don’t even remember now, with me in a bloody narky mood but you two indulging in ridiculous games and discussions without a care in the world. Maybe that’s why I agreed to stupid drinking games that night, and drank far more than I damn well should have. Tom and the other guys joined in too, and we all retired back to our bunks afterwards, in the wee hours of the morning not feeling the greatest.  
  
  
I’d been settled in my bed for the better part of an hour, curtain across, but for some reason couldn’t get to sleep. And in my foggy, drunken haze I heard voices just further away, whispering in the dark. It took me a few moments to realise it was you and Matt; yourself murmuring quietly, and Matt replying in a hushed, irritated tone.  
  
  
“...not now...can’t here...I want to...”  
  
  
I could only hear bits and pieces because you were so quiet and I was still in a drunken stupor. My eyes flew open at the mention of my name though.  
  
  
“...Chris...hear us...we can’t...”  
  
  
“...really fucking...want you to...please...”  
  
  
I was trying to decipher what you were saying but the conversation stopped not long after. I was about to attempt falling asleep again when I heard the rustle of clothes and dull thud of someone shifting around in a bunk. What I heard next will forever be seared into my mind, and I remember distinctly the way my stomach wrenched in realisation.  
  
  
A soft moan, unmistakably Matt’s, drifted out from across the short span of the hallway, and was followed by you murmuring something I couldn’t hear in a sultry, guttural tone that is only ever used in one situation. It was followed by more sounds of shifting material, and then hot, wet noises of mouth upon mouth.  
  
  
I couldn’t move, I couldn’t do anything at all, as you continued on; heavy breaths and gentle groans making their way to my ears and seeping into my brain over and over as I became paralysed with shock. I didn’t want to believe what I was hearing, what it meant you were doing to one another, and probably had been for God knows how long.  
  
  
I should have blocked my ears, squeezed my eyes shut and ignored it, or interrupted you and blasted you for your deceit. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t bloody move, I could only listen. To the ever-increasing rate of your heaving breaths, and furious sounds of skin on skin, until after a few minutes they built up into restrained, gasping moans from both of you, one after the other.  
  
  
Matt’s ridiculous giggle pierced the hot, quiet atmosphere of the two of you struggling to breathe, and I heard you shush him, only to laugh too. I, myself, didn’t find it funny at all. My hands were gripped so hard to the bed sheets that it hurt like hell, but I couldn’t stop for fear I would lose control and make a noise. I was shaking with shock and fear and anger, and so many other things that I thought I was going to lose my mind for those few moments afterward.  
  
  
The thing that stopped me from saying anything, from exposing you two for liars you are right then, was my own self disgust. From all that breathing, moaning, kissing and noises of touching, I’d found myself utterly and completely turned on; my erection twitching and aching in my boxers despite how much alcohol I’d consumed.  
  
  
And I hated myself for it. I hated the fact that I liked the two of you yanking on each other, or whatever you’d been doing, and I wanted to hear more of it. It was perverse to think of my two best friends in that way, and I knew it, but I craved it nonetheless. That’s why I listened out desperately for it the following night.  
  
  
And I wasn’t disappointed.  
  
  
Not that long after everyone had gone to sleep again, I heard the soft padding of feet down the hall, and Matt whisper to you in your bunk. Evidently he’d gotten over his initial fear of being caught by me, and was the one to initiate the night romp this time around. I found myself lying face down on the bed, eyes squeezed shut and ears open as the quiet, filthy sounds of you two groping each other started once again.  
  
  
I could feel my erection pressing against the not very soft mattress of the bunk, aching and calling out to me to touch. But I refused; the guilt of what this meant for me, to be turned on so much by you two, was enough to stop my itching hands that night.  
  
  
Despite that, my head and body still flooded with endorphins and hormones, making me feel so bloody good as I listened to Matt grunt your name accompanied by wet, slurping noises. I suddenly realised what you must have been doing to him, and lost my breath at the thought and images that blazed in my head. Little did I know that was only the beginning for me.  
  
  
As Matt stifled a blissful cry, my head conjured up expressions for his face I couldn’t see, and I found myself drowning in the noises and imaginary visions of his orgasm. I too now was gasping for air in my desperation, and I prayed you wouldn’t hear me, though it was doubtful over your own noises.  
  
  
When I heard more shuffling of clothing and sheets, and your soft cries as Matt began to return the favour, my body burned in gratitude at the further stimulation that was being provided. I wanted to come, I wanted to come so badly, it was fucking hurting me. I didn’t want you to stop, but I couldn’t bring myself to take matters into my own hands, so I was left with my limbs pressed taught against the bunk sides, hysterical in my desire.  
  
  
By the time you finally came, with a breathy whimper of Matt’s name, my body was damp with sweat and trembling like I might fall apart at any moment. And I bloody felt like it too. I was simultaneous wracked with guttural lust and horrendous guilt, the combination of the two making me feel ill, and I tried to suppress the need to gag. How I ended up getting to sleep that night, I don’t know. I think I was so bloody exhausted from the physical and mental stimulation I ended up passing out in a shivering sweat, my body hating me for depriving it of what it really wanted.  
  
  
In my mind, I was relieved the next night was our last before we got to change buses because I honestly wasn’t sure if I could take any more without going absolutely nutty. I’d see the way you’d look at each other sometimes when we all hung out on the bus, and now knew there was so much more behind those sneaky glances than just playful teasing or innocent perusal. And every time, I would hear your whining noises of pleasure echo in my ears, and find my body attempting to respond physically, but I always denied it.  
  
  
That last night, with sickness of guilt and tremors of excitement stirring in my belly, I settled down to bed, lying on my belly again and awaited your nightly melody of ecstasy.  
  
  
Minutes passed, then probably an hour.  
  
  
But there was nothing. No hushed whispers and clambering into each other’s bunks. All I could hear was Matt’s soft snore, and the sound of you turning over in your sleep.  
  
  
And I found myself angry and hungry, tossing and turning in bed. I was furious with you two for not engaging like you had done the previous nights, and more furious with myself for wanting you to so badly. I was horrified at how pathetic I’d become in the space of only a couple of days, and had no idea how it had come to this or how to stop it.  
  
  
I was like a bloody junkie needing a fix, only it was the indecent, provocative noises of you two satisfying each other that I had become addicted to, and I had absolutely no way of knowing if I’d ever feed that hunger again.  
  
  
What had I turned into?


	2. Chapter 2

_What had I turned into?_  
  
  
A dirty, fucking pervert, that’s what.  
  
  
I was in an utterly shitty mood the following day, which you two noticed instantly, with Matt deciding to give me a childish jibe about being sexually frustrated. God, if only he knew. He tried to console me with the fact that I’d get to see Kelly that day, but that just made me feel even worse and I was overcome with shame.  
  
  
I attempted to avoid the two of you for the rest of the morning, which was difficult considering how small the bus was, and ended up holing myself up in the front cabin with the bloke whose turn it was to drive, watching the road. We made small talk, and I told him about seeing my wife and kids again that afternoon, and I felt a little better telling him all the wonderful things about them, and not having to discuss the band at all.  
  
  
But eventually, the conversation steered itself towards music and my band mates, and I’m sure he could tell my responses became much more clipped and guarded. After a minute or so of silence, he spoke again.  
  
  
“Can I ask you something?” he inquired, sounding hesitant.  
  
  
I really didn’t want him to because I was afraid of what he would say. But I couldn’t say no, because that would seem even more suspicious.  
  
  
“Yeah, sure, what is it?” I replied, trying to sound casual, but feeling far from it.  
  
  
“Matt and Dom, are they...I mean...how do I put this...” he stumbled, and with every passing word, I felt the knot in my stomach grow tighter. “Are they shagging each other?”  
  
  
I went to open my mouth to give the standard, brush-off response, but he stopped me.  
  
  
“I know you’re going to say, that’s what everyone says, and it’s just a joke, but I’m serious,” he continued, much more determined now. “Because some of the things I’ve seen and heard these last couple of times on the road...”  
  
  
I could feel my throat closing up in panic, but I forced myself to speak.  
  
  
“Like what?”  
  
  
I watched him flush with embarrassment for a moment, then he went on.  
  
  
“Well, when I’ve driven the bus at night a couple of times, I swear to God I’ve heard sex noises coming from one of the cabins. And then Matt comes stumbling out later looking, well, fucked, and completely oblivious to my presence,” he explained. “And once I accidentally stumbled across Dom getting blown in his bunk by someone. It was dark, they had the curtain most of the way across, and I was pretty hammered at the time, but it looked a whole fucking lot like Matt.”  
  
  
I didn’t reply to his confessions, and instead found myself slipping back into the visions I’d created in my own head about them going down on each other. My body began to cry out at me again, to pacify this desire with a quick bout of self-pleasuring, but I smothered it as best I could and got up abruptly to leave.  
  
  
“No idea, you’ll have to ask them yourself,” I muttered irritably. “Who they fuck is no concern of mine.”  
  
  
And with that bare-faced lie, I rushed out of the driver’s cabin and threw myself back into the lion’s den of your two’s presence. The result of which, meant the rest of the trip didn’t go very smoothly, where I was concerned. I attempted to speak to you and Matt as little as possible, and look at you only when I really fucking had to; my iPod was a welcome reprieve in hearing those voices of yours that incited such primal response in me.  
  
  
When the bus finally arrived, I was out of there in a flash, rushing past everyone else impolitely and not caring if shoved them a little too hard. And seeing Kelly again was both a blessing and a curse in itself.  
  
  
Upon the grace of her smile again, my heart soared and I beamed with love, but something else more instinctive also took hold of me and I was suddenly filled with complete and utter _want_.  
  
  
I couldn’t get her up to the hotel bedroom and the kids off to the nanny fast enough; and when we did finally get in there, my hands were just about tearing off her clothes I was so worked up. I’m ashamed to actually recount some of the things I did and felt that afternoon because I know it wasn’t simply seeing her again that drove this frantic desire in me.  
  
  
All the pent up frustration and anger was unleashed upon my poor lovely wife, and when I scrambled atop to ravage her a third time in a row, she stopped me, concerned.  
  
  
“Chris...” she breathed, her eyes wide and troubled. “Baby...you alright?”  
  
  
As soon as I looked into those beautiful eyes of hers and saw her utterly spent and dishevelled beneath me, the mad lust and craving began to quell inside me. I slid limply to one side of her and shifted my arm up to slide under her neck, pulling her closer.  
  
  
She always knew when something was wrong, and this time was no exception. Only I had no idea how to explain it to her.  
  
  
I could feel the bile rising in my throat as the sound of Matt desperately calling your name still echoed in my ears. That raw, wicked longing was still present, but my body simply didn’t have the physical means to try and dispel it anymore.  
  
  
Even if Kelly had still been willing, things would have turned from bad to worse had I attempted another round when I was clearly not _up_ to it. And would have alerted her to the fact that something was horribly wrong.  
  
  
“Yeah...” I lied, hating myself for doing this to her. “Just been alone and frustrated...”  
  
  
She watched me for a few more moments and then smiled warmly, wrapping her arms around me, and loosening the wretched knot in my belly just a little bit. I sighed and was content in holding her that way the rest of the afternoon until the kids returned, and I forgot all about you and Matt and the terrible anguish you’d unleashed upon me.  
  
  
And for the next week or so, I had some respite from the madness, because though we had shows to play, I didn’t have to see you or Matt for long, tortuous hours like before. Even when we played, and rehearsed and hung out together, I allowed myself to forget about what I’d heard, and pretended like none of it ever happened.  
  
  
The tight, guilty bindings around my heart loosened, and I no longer had that sense of dread upon having to deal with the two of you alone.  
  
  
But my reprieve was to be short-lived.  
  
  
The next set of touring meant we had to go back onto a bus, though thankfully this time it was a lot bigger, and could cram everyone on board. Unfortunately for me, Kelly informed me that Alfie had come down with something, and she didn’t want to make him travel in that confined space when he wasn’t feeling well. And it would be even worse if he spread it to anyone else, especially me, you or Matt.  
  
  
Kelly must have seen the panic and trepidation in my eyes as I said goodbye to her, because she grinned and assured me it would only be a few days away from her and the kids. But I knew a lot could happen in a few days, and I began to feel that sickly pull on my insides again at the thought.  
  
  
In an attempt to stifle any plans the two of you may have had, I hastily stole the spare bunk in the same section of the bus as Matt. I could tell from the look on your face that you wanted to argue about it, but you obviously realised that the insistence would look suspect, and so said nothing.  
  
  
That obstacle, I hoped, would deter you from any late night escapades and leave me in peace once again.  
  
  
I was wrong.


	3. Chapter 3

That very first night back on the road, I woke in a daze to hear the soft click of the door to our section as it was closed carefully behind someone. Immediately, I just assumed it was Matt coming back from a toilet run, but my blood turned cold as I heard that familiar heavy whispering in the darkness.  
  
  
Goosebumps appeared all over my skin and that deep, ravenous craving in my abdomen reared its ugly head again. My body began to burn hot at the thought of what was to come, and already I could feel myself stirring and aching in desperation.  
  
  
All I could think, shaking frantically in my bunk, was _not again not again not again_ followed by the sickening declaration of _I want this_.  
  
  
Despite the increased risk, neither yourself or Matt attempted to be any quieter in your activities than before, and resumed those depraved, breathy keening noises as you fumbled and groped one another in his bunk. The wet, grunting sound of the two of you kissing so fervently floated out clearly down the hall for me to hear. I thought I might explode with the sheer lust that rocketed through me in response.  
  
  
My hands fidgeted in frustration as you continued on, panting and calling for each other in the night, and I turned over quickly to quell any temptation they had to placate the insistence between my legs. As if in defiance, I found myself slowly pulling aside my curtain just a little, to cast a peering eye in the direction of Matt’s bunk.  
  
To this day, I still have no idea why I did it, and now regret it, considering what happened afterward.  
  
  
Matt’s curtain was twitching with the movement of the two of you behind it, though it still managed to keep you covered. Whether I was glad for that or not at the time, I can’t say. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I’d seen the full extent of Matt’s activities on you that night.  
  
  
Though in my head I couldn’t stop the vivid images of my own imagination, as you breathed hard again and groaned, indicating just how far down Matt’s hungry kisses had travelled. My gaze could have burned a hole right through that curtain as I watched it, trembling and losing my mind again with need as I listened to the two of you indulge in one another’s bodies.  
  
  
I knew I should look away, should block my ears and stop driving myself utterly insane again, but my body wouldn’t let me. It was so bloody demanding and yearning for more that all I could do was lie there and stare, not knowing what I really wanted or why. And that was my ultimate blunder that night.  
  
  
Because in a grasp of your arm downward I presume, you brushed the curtain and caused it to slide across just the slightest bit, but enough to expose your face, and for you to see out. Enough to see me staring achingly in your direction, awake and aware of what you were doing.  
  
  
For a moment, I think we were both overcome by sheer panic. Your eyes widened and I saw your mouth drop open, not from pleasure this time. I found my breath catch hard in my throat and I don’t think I’ve been more completely fucking terrified of you in my entire life.  
  
  
But then you must have seen something.  
  
  
Something in the way I was looking at you; the dark, craving, deviant desire to see and listen to what the two of you were doing to one another. Because that perverse, heavy hunger appeared in your eyes as well, and you didn’t stop Matt’s motions below that I couldn’t see, just let him continue. Not that I wanted to see.  
  
  
But, oh God, I did. I really fucking wanted to. Because my head was so screwed up, so dosed with bloody testosterone, that it craved anything filthy, no matter how wrong it was. But the curtain stayed where it was, and instead you groaned a little louder for me to hear, which was enough.  
  
  
Your eyes rolled back a moment, and when you looked at me again, I’m sure I must have appeared like a bloody madman. My eyes were wild and I was twitching and fidgeting in my bunk like I was having a fit or something. Because now you knew, _you knew_ I was watching you, and you _wanted_ me to, and that thought I absolutely couldn’t cope with at that moment.  
  
  
Still, you didn’t say anything, just flicked wicked glances over to me repeatedly, and gasped and sighed at what was being done to you. As the moments ticked by I found my hips bucking involuntarily, grinding me against the bunk mattress, and it took all the strength I had that night to will them to stop. If I hadn’t, there’s no doubt I would have worked myself to orgasm from just the friction alone, I was that out of my head.  
  
  
Then I watched as your brow began to furrow and the erratic shakes of your body caused your head to loll back and forth, and I knew it was at this moment that I definitely needed to look away. But I still couldn’t. I couldn’t stop.  
  
  
My breath disappeared from my lungs as your eyes rolled back in your head and you gasped Matt’s name, the look of utter ecstasy on your face as you came just another thing forever burned into my memories now. But your eyes quickly opened and pinned me to the spot, and I was sure I felt my heart stop as you stared at me while you rode that orgasm.  
  
  
My own erection screamed at me during those long seconds, and I could feel all over how desperate, _so bloody desperate_ , I was to be right there with you in those sensations. But still, I couldn’t do it. I could only ache and hunger and sweat myself into a shivering, distraught mess.  
  
  
As your breathing slowed and body settled back down from its exertion, I saw you glance over at me with heavy eyes, a sloppy, mischievous grin on your face. At this, I panicked and pulled the curtain back across so you couldn’t see me anymore, and I didn’t have to deal with that damn satisfied and intrigued expression of yours.  
  
  
I already fucking hated myself for enjoying the voyeuristic experience of you and Matt in the first place, and now I had to cope with you knowing that I did too. I felt that nauseous guilt wash over me again as my thoughts turned to Kelly, and then more burning anger at thoughts of Gaia and Jess. How could you do this to them, to all of us? And how could I be doing this to them too?  
  
  
I was just as damn deceitful as the two of you, because I didn’t tell anyone what you were up to either. Worse, I was getting off on it. The shame and guilt ripped me to shreds, but the hungering desire still somehow overpowered these feelings and left me incapable to act. In all my raging, hysterical lust, I was somehow impotent. Oh, the irony. I think the universe is playing some sick joke on me.  
  
  
I refused to engage further with you that night, and you didn’t say anything after I’d closed the curtain, not even to Matt. Though you still had the gall to start up on him, knowing full well that I was listening the entire time. I swear you were doing your best to force as much noise out of him as possible, because he was a lot more vocal than I remembered from the other nights. I could only imagine what you were doing to him, but there must have been a hell of a lot of teasing going on for him to make those sounds.  
  
  
He whined and whimpered, and then grunted and growled at you, and I squeezed my eyes shut, trying, and failing, to stop my brain from eagerly receiving and echoing those terrible, wonderful noises. My mind painted pictures of you sucking and stroking him just enough to drive him crazy, like you were doing me, and I was horrified at how vividly I could think of such images of the two of you.  
  
  
My memories betrayed me, stealing snippets of information; times I had seen the two of you naked, blurry, night-vision video when you’d fucked random groupies, and numerous occasions you’d physically demonstrated your sexual escapades. My mind cobbled them together to construct what I saw now in my head, no matter how hard I tried to shake it away.  
  
  
As much I hated it, I craved it’s presence. I liked the way it made my body ache in such primal, animal ways, leaving me utterly mad with frustration and forcing my teeth to bite hard into the pillow to stifle any cries. I don’t think I’ve enjoyed being so emotionally shattered in my whole life.  
  
  
Then I could hear Matt break the silence, just barely whispering, gasping from the bunk across from me.  
  
  
“Fuck... _please_...”  
  
  
He sounded as desperate as I felt, and I heard you chuckle, you filthy fucking tease. But you evidently granted Matt his wish, whatever it was, because he let out a low moan and my body shivered involuntarily.  
  
  
I’d never heard him make that noise before, ever; not even in the early days of our band when he’d carry on like a lunatic, screaming and grunting into the microphone. What you were doing to draw that sound from him, I don’t know, but it continued on with gasping breaths and rustling sheets until he made that wretched choking noise I’d grown to recognise as Matt coming.  
  
  
And once again, I found myself shaking, clawing, burning up inside with this dark, gut-wrenching need, and that rational part of my mind screaming at me what a fucking disgrace I was. But still I listened and savoured his sounds of agonised pleasure, knowing they would continue to stick in my head and render me a pathetic, salivating animal whenever the memory overtook me.  
  
  
The rest of that night was a bit of a blur. The replicated noises of you and Matt harassing each other’s bodies to the point of ecstasy, and you now knowing about it, left me so unhinged that I don’t think my mind could cope and form new memories. All I know is that I sweated and ached and twisted in my bunk into the early hours of the morning, feverish but unwilling to allow myself relief at my own hands.  
  
  
I did sleep, but it was a disturbed state that was punctuated with lucid dreams of the two of you doing unspeakable things to each other while I watched. When I woke the next morning I felt exhausted already, and hadn’t even gotten out of bed yet. Worse still, I knew I had to face you; face what I’d witnessed between the two of you, what you would think of me, and whether you would tell anyone.  
  
  
The thought made me retch.


	4. Chapter 4

Turns out I’m pretty good at avoiding people when I want to.  
  
Even someone as determined as you can be. Clearly you hadn’t mentioned anything to Matt about my peeping, because he acted completely normal around me that whole day; well, as normal as is possible for him anyway. This is Matt we’re talking about.  
  
Anyway, I ended up telling everyone that I wasn’t feeling well and thought I might be coming down with what Alfie had. I said I didn’t want to give it to anyone else and shut myself in the back of the bus for most of the trip that day. You didn’t believe me, I could tell, and I felt your eyes burning a fucking hole into my back as I retreated to the bunks.  
  
But you didn’t say anything. Not that you could, in front of everyone. What would you say, ‘Oh Chris, I think you’re just faking it because you watched Matt blow me last night and now don’t want to talk to us about it’? Yeah, that would go down really fucking well.  
  
Not that you needed words to get your point across. We’ve known each other so long now, we can almost always tell what the other is thinking and what they’re going to say before they say it. Which I had always thought was a blessing, but that day was my worst fucking nightmare. You played it to your full advantage, just to torture me, I know.  
  
Every time I would emerge from the back to take a piss, or when we’d stop for food, I could feel your eyes on me. Not staring, but just sideways glances and gazes that lingered just that little bit too long so I would notice. And the couple of times I actually made eye contact with you, despite trying not to, your expression said it all. Your eyes were questioning, burning with curiosity, and a small, amused smile twitched at the corners of your mouth.  
  
The way you acted with Matt that day as well, I know was an almost blatant taunt at my avoidance of you both, and the issue I refused to face. When we slipped into a small roadside café for lunch, I pushed past you both and ordered ahead, seating myself at a completely separate table. But in my peripheral vision, as much as I tried to ignore it, I saw and heard the two of you laughing and joking about while you stuffed your faces.  
  
You probably know I couldn’t help but glance up at you, no matter how much I told myself not to look, knowing it was a bad idea. You two acted so much liked you used to in the old days, before Gaia and Jess; just completely comfortable and affectionate with one another, smiling and touching and driving me insane.  
  
You poked Matt several times in the stomach and he giggled insanely, before grabbing you by the scruff and attempting to shove ice from his drink down the back of your shirt. You laughed and shoved him, hands grasping him roughly at the arm and waist as you tried to do the same back to him. He slipped an arm around your shoulder to pull you close to him as the two of you grappled, and I found my cheeks burning as I recounted in my head a similar grunting and gasping from an entirely different context.  
  
Your eyes locked on mine several times while the two of you messed about; that twitching smile of yours tugging into a knowing grin as I tried to will myself to look away. But you knew my weakness, and played up to it, your hands skimming over Matt’s arse and up the back of his neck while you pretended to fight with one another.  
  
Matt, of course, was oblivious to this, and just revelled in the utter ridiculousness of acting like a prat, as he usually did. I think he was happy just to relive some of the crazier nature of the early days, though it wouldn’t surprise me if his mind was also in the gutter a little as he had his hands on you. That bloke has never really stopped thinking about sex the entire time I’ve known him, and now that I know you two are involved, it just makes it more likely he’s got sex on the brain every waking moment.  
  
And I couldn’t see or hear the two of you together without thinking the same thing. I ate my sandwich faster than any human should be capable of, practically inhaling it, and got the hell out of there as fast as I could. If my eyes wouldn’t behave themselves, then it was up to my legs to carry me away from the temptation, which fortunately they agreed to do.  
  
But you wouldn’t let me get away that easily, oh no. When we resumed our trip after lunch, I swear you sat yourself deliberately near the back of the bus as you convinced Matt, Tom and Morgan to join you for a drink. You probably passed around your usual bottle of gin or whatever it was, and started talking about all sorts of bloody obscure things, loud enough for me to hear. Inevitably, the conversation steered toward sex, and you started asking each of them about their best ever sexual experience.  
  
You really can be a devious bastard when you try, despite your charming, sweet appearance to the public at large. They don’t know the half of it. And that day, you were turning the screws all the fucking way in, just to make a point.  
  
I can’t remember exactly what Tom and Morgan said, because the stories told by you and Matt blot out every other detail in my mind from that afternoon. When it came around to Matt’s turn, he was already giggling, and I can only imagine the looks that must have been passing between the two of you, with Morgan and Tom ignorant to all.  
  
“Well, you probably think I’m going to say something with Gaia, but unfortunately that’s not the case. But you can’t tell her that,” Matt said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “Because she’ll be pissed to know my best fuck was with a bloke.”  
  
I heard Morgan and Tom groan with disgust, and you, of course, just laughed. I’m pretty sure they knew Matt had shagged men before, or at least experimented anyway, but that didn’t mean they wanted to hear about it. Still, Matt is never one to really give a shit about making people squeamish, or offending anyone, so it wasn’t surprising that he continued on.  
  
“He took me hard and fast on the balcony of a hotel room one night, both of us with masks on, but people could us see if they were paying attention,” I heard Matt grin. “There’s something freeing about screaming out into the dark, possibly being watched while someone fucks your brains out.”  
  
Tom and Morgan yelped and complained at Matt in revulsion, but he just giggled, and you joined him straight after. His tone was heavy and suggestive, and I knew that of course it had been you and him that had done that deed, my body shivering at the thought. Why didn’t it surprise me that you’re both exhibitionists, and would completely get off on shagging just about in public? And why is it also no shocker that I wish I’d seen that?  
  
My stomach was starting to twist at the glimpses and vague hints you dropped about your involvement with one another, and I struggled to keep those memories of your voices out of my head again. I knew Tom and Morgan would be completely oblivious to it; they wouldn’t see the flash of knowing mischief in your exchanged glances, or the edge of heat on your words to stimulate arousal in one another at the memories. And I wish I could go back to that, have what they have, and just never think there is anything suspicious or devious about your conversations and interactions. But I can’t unhear what I’ve heard. I can’t unfeel what I’ve felt. And I can’t take away what you know I know.  
  
“Fuck, mate, I don’t want to hear about you shagging blokes, thanks,” Tom said distastefully. “It’s not a nice image.”  
  
I heard you chuckle, and my mouth turned dry at the sly sound of it.  
  
“But some people like that kind of thing you know. Any kind of sex turns them on,” you said, making sure I could hear it clearly. “It could be something they think they wouldn’t normally want to hear, but turns out they love it. The more perverted and wrong it seems, the hornier they get.”  
  
My chest seized at these words, directed so obviously at me, and I almost leapt from the bed to smack that smug smile from your face that I could hear. But instead I found my heart-rate ratcheting up several notches and breathing begin to labour. My hands also decided to grow a mind of their own, fidgeting and pushing downwards to begin wandering over my clothes. Just the thought of you and Matt together again was playing havoc on my body, and the fact that you were playing up to all of this for my benefit just drove me even more crazy.  
  
“Exactly. Come on Tom, sex is just sex, don’t get all fucking offended on us now,” Matt taunted. “Does it really matter that it’s a bloke?”  
  
I heard Morgan snort a laugh and then Tom started to chuckle as well. I closed my eyes as my hands continued to journey over my thighs, and slide back and forth over my abdomen at the edge of my waistband.  
  
“I guess not. When its you, I shouldn’t really be surprised anyway, should I?” Tom said wryly.  
  
Matt laughed again, petering off to a mischievous giggle, and I heard my blood rushing in my ears as I recognised why he would be laughing that way. Morgan and Tom probably just thought it was because he revelled in being the perverse little freak of the group, when in fact it was because he found it funny that they had no idea about you. That you are just as corrupt and deviant as him.  
  
“Exactly, you know what he’s like, the fucking weirdo,” you agreed. “Probably likes it up the arse more than shagging women anyway, do you reckon?”  
  
I heard the three of you crack up with laughter, and Matt making whining, irritated noises of protest at your suggestion. Your words made my hands risk a venture downward between my legs, and I had to bite my lip to stifle the wretched groan I wanted to let escape at the sensation. I had only planned it to be a quick grope to placate myself, but once they were there, my hands refused to leave.


	5. Chapter 5

_Once they were there, my hands refused to leave_.  
  
  
  
“Fuck off, wanker,” Matt retorted, though I could hear the smile in his voice. “You can’t tell me your best experience is something not just a little bit freakish.”  
  
My head spun, thinking, plotting, imagining all the things the two of you had no doubt been up to all this time, and which of those you would pick to be your favourite. It didn’t even enter my mind that your favourite could be with a woman; after what I’d witnessed this past week or so, there was just no way it would be with anyone other than Matt. How I hate being right.  
  
“Yeah, okay, maybe a little,” you admitted, and my breath caught in my throat at the lustful edge to your tone. “Depends if you think bondage is freakish.”  
  
One hand slipped inside my trousers at this, and my mouth fell open in a silent cry as I took hold of myself for the first time in these manic days since I’d first heard the two of you.  
  
Why it was at this point that I decided to finally give in and let my body have what it had craved for so long, I don’t know. At the time, I didn’t see it as a surrender to the temptation driven by you and Matt being together, turning me on. I convinced myself it was just another meaningless wank carried out simply because I wanted to, not because I was enjoying hearing about Matt get fucked by you, or vice versa. I was in denial, I know that now, but that afternoon I was so tired, mentally and physically, that I just stopped trying to fight it and let my hand do as it pleased.  
  
“Well, I don’t, but you know that already,” Matt replied. “So, go ahead.”  
  
I listened eagerly for your confession, my hand pulling hard, deep strokes up and down as I started on a steady rhythm of self-pleasuring for the first time in what seemed like a lifetime. My chest rose and fell heavily as warm, pervasive waves of pleasure swept through my body from my own touch, and I had trouble keeping myself quiet.  
  
“Well...it was a little while ago, when I was more heavily into experimenting with everything. I decided to ask the particular person I was with to tie me up and do their worst,” you explained. “Turns out that wasn’t the smartest thing for me to say to them, I should have known better. Because things got...intense.”  
  
I knew absolutely then that you were talking about Matt, because letting him loose to do as he wished, in any context, is often a very bad idea. My hips bucked at the thought just how crazy he would go when given free reign over your body, and my lungs burned as I gasped for air in desperation.  
  
“How’s that then?” Matt asked, though he knew perfectly well how because he’d been the one to do it.  
  
“Well, for a while I was blindfolded and had never had any idea what was going to happen. They did all sorts of things to me like that, driving me insane and just continually making me guess what was coming next. I thought I was going to lose my mind,” you continued. “That went on for a good half hour or so, before they took my blindfold off and gagged me with it instead.”  
  
My strokes quickened as I listened, my body shaking and burning at the thought of Matt doing that to you, and I could feel my heart pounding harder and harder in my ears as the moments ticked by. Rushes of unadulterated pleasure ripped through me as I touched myself, and my skin felt awakened and electric at this simple action that was normally so routine and mundane.  
  
“Gagged? Where’s the fun in that?” Tom asked.  
  
You just laughed, the wicked chuckle sending shivers through me.  
  
“Oh, trust me, there’s a lot of fun in it, and especially that night. There’s something about feeling so helpless, unable to object in any way, that’s the biggest fucking turn on,” you said, your tone darkening. “To be denied for so long, teased to the point of insanity, is so bloody powerful. Makes the end all that much better, I can tell you.”  
  
My movements were getting erratic now, as the images flashing in my head started to overtake me and build that tension inside me quickly toward breaking point. I moved my hand faster, harder, and tried to suppress the small noises of enjoyment that were being pulled from me in doing this to myself. I’ve never been much of one with sex noises, just the occasional grunt or groan when I come, but that day I found it so bloody hard to restrain myself, everything just felt fucking amazing.  
  
“So, just being tied up and teased? _That_ is your best experience?” Morgan asked, sceptically.  
  
I heard Matt stifle a giggle, and knew the kind of look he must be giving you about now. I struggled for air at the thought, tugging my trousers down and pulling up my shirt a little with my other hand in preparation. I was getting too stimulated too quickly from just a few minutes of conversation, that it wouldn’t take long to push me over the edge.  
  
“ _Just_? Nah, there was nothing that simple about it. They knew exactly where and how to touch me to make me feel the most incredible things,” you explained, the smile audible in your voice. “Like they knew me better than anyone else.”  
  
Oh, that was a blatant insinuation if I’d ever heard one, and how it didn’t send up red flags with Morgan and Tom then, I have no fucking idea. I guess if you’re not looking for it, or even think it was possible, you just wouldn’t see it. But you knew I’d know, and that I was listening. I’m sure you probably even predicted that I might have my hands on myself at that moment, especially because of the way I’d watched you last night and not done anything then.  
  
“Still, doesn’t seem like that big a deal,” Tom piped up. “I would’ve thought you’d say some crazy orgy with seven Japanese birds was the best you’d ever had. Would be for me.”  
  
You laughed again, and my eyes rolled back as I felt my body surging with pleasure as I edged closer and closer to the brink. All I could see in my head was you tied up and gagged with Matt over you, playing, teasing, groping, sucking, licking, and your body writhing and bucking beneath him as he did so. I was hard and hot in my own hand, and my movements continued furiously as you spoke again.  
  
“If you haven’t been teased like that before, then you don’t know how fucking amazing it is,” you informed him. “He just went on and on with it, making me completely crazy for a good couple of hours.”  
  
A deathly silence filled the room at your slip up, before Matt lost the ability to hold himself together and just started giggling insanely.  
  
“He? _He??_ ” Tom choked. “ _Yours_ was a bloke too?!”  
  
“Uh, did I say he? I meant she,” you tried to cover quickly.  
  
“Oh, no, no, no, don’t you try bullshit me, Howard,” Tom pursued. “I know when you’re lying. It _was_ a bloke, wasn’t it?”  
  
You started giggling along with Matt, though the real truth behind why the two of you were laughing so stupidly was evident only to me.  
  
“Well...what can I say, he did a good job,” you said wickedly. “Doesn’t really matter to me if they’re male or female, if they can make me feel like that.”  
  
I heard Morgan and Tom choke and mutter to themselves, though Morgan then let out a laugh, clearly more amused than horrified by this revelation. Tom, however, was a different story.  
  
“Fuck mate, _that_ I get for Matt, but _you_...?” he gaped. “I didn’t think you were...I mean, shit...”  
  
Despite the change in tone of conversation, my hand was still insistent between my legs, and I found myself slipping under the haze of just imagining what may have gone on between the two of you back then. I wondered if it had been a time when we’d been on tour, or during one of our breaks, or if it was before or after you’d started seeing Jess. I contemplated that maybe it had been on the road, like now, and you’d done all of these awful, wonderful things to one another with me right in the next hotel room. I bit my lip, and cursed myself for the thought.  
  
“You really didn’t think, after all the crazy, weird shit we’ve done over the years, that I might have decided to test things out with a bloke, even once?” you asked him. “Just to see what it was like?”  
  
There was no response for a while, and the only sound was Matt still tittering with laughter to himself.  
  
“Yeah, okay, maybe, I can understand that,” Tom replied. “But to say it was the best you’ve ever had...for you guys, that’s saying a lot.”  
  
“Well, I still like women, you don’t have to worry,” you informed him. “I’m not gonna come sneaking into your bunk at night to try shag you or anything.”  
  
My body shuddered at your words, and I could feel my control starting to unravel as the thoughts and feelings started to push me up onto that knife edge. My belly burned with the dark, deviant lust that I’d been trying to suppress these past weeks, and I just let it take over and fill me hot and hard.  
  
I heard Tom laugh now, obviously put at ease a little by your joke, blissfully unaware of the sly truth that rang in it.  
  
“Well, that’s good to hear, you’re not turning on us,” he teased. “But if you’ll excuse me, I need to take a piss cos of all that booze.”  
  
“Yeah, I’m going to grab a Coke, be back in a little bit,” Morgan said. “You guys want anything?”  
  
The two of you declined the offer and there was a few shuffling noises as they retreated out of the back of the bus. No doubt the loo and drink comments were convenient excuses to give themselves a breather from the staggering discovery of your not-so-straight adventures in the sack.


	6. Chapter 6

  
He let out a giggle and I heard movement which sounded like someone shifting on the seats.  
  
“Well, you said about the balcony thing, so I thought I’d return the favour,” you replied, that heavy edge returning to your voice. “And it _was_ the best fucking thing I’ve ever felt.”  
  
There was heavy breathing for a few moments, and my heart pounded hard in my ears as frantic thoughts of what you two could be doing rushed through my head at lightning speed. It was almost too much, and I gasped to myself as my body surged with that hungry, deep want. This time, it would not be ignored.  
  
“Dom...stop...” Matt said softly, his voice strained. “The door’s open and... _Chris is right in there_...”  
  
The last part was whispered, and I only barely heard it.  
  
“He’s asleep, otherwise he would’ve said something by now,” you murmured, tone starting to thicken with desire. “You know how he gets with too much sex talk, the fucking prude. Especially when you said about me taking you hard out in the open. He definitely would’ve whinged about that.”  
  
In the weeks before all this happened, you probably would’ve been right. But now, there was nothing more I wanted than to hear about all those hot, heavy and wicked things you’d done to one another all this time. My body ached for the release, it had done for so long now, and this time I was going to give it what it wanted. I didn’t care anymore.  
  
“Probably...still, we should be careful,” Matt insisted, his voice still quiet. “How about...we just talk?”  
  
Normally, that would have sounded so innocent, but the sly giggle that followed told me otherwise. That cheeky little git was winding me up even when he didn’t know it. Though you sure did, you smug prick.  
  
“I like the sounds of that,” your voice was a purr, sending shivers down my spine.  
  
I was shaking now, sweating and wracked with desire, wound so tight and driving myself utterly mad as I listened. I wanted, needed, craved, just anything to push me over that last hurdle and plunge into the awaiting darkness that I knew there was no coming back from. I’d waited so long and tried so hard to stop myself from surrendering to this base, animal need. But I just didn’t want to fight it anymore.  
  
“I did like thinking about that time on the balcony, it was a lot of fun,” Matt murmured. “Remembering how you felt inside me, how it felt to know people could see us like that...how hard I came because of it.”  
  
My mouth fell open and I squeezed my eyes shut, teetering on the edge from his words. Close, so close, but not quite allowing myself to fall just yet, my hand sliding up and down slowly as I teased myself just that little bit longer.  
  
I needed more.  
  
I needed your voice.  
  
Or it would not be enough to satisfy this horrid hunger.  
  
“Yeah, you dirty slut, you like being watched when you take me deep, don’t you?” you growled. “I love filling you up, feeling you squeeze around me. God, it makes me want to blow my load right now just thinking about it.”  
  
Then there was nothing but the paralysing injection of pleasure inside my body. My mind blanked, and orgasm ripped through me like hot lightning, making me spasm and muscles tense so hard they hurt. The burning, wrenching pulse between my legs made me lose my breath for a few moments before I groaned involuntarily, followed by a gasping, pained “ _fuck_ ”. It was loud enough I knew for you both to hear, but I couldn’t help it; the sensations that wracked my body during those long moments left me incapable of any self-control.  
  
I wish I could say it wasn’t that good. That it was just the fact that I hadn’t had anything for a while that made it feel so incredible. And maybe it was partly the reason, the relief after such teasing. But as much as I hate to admit it, I know it was more than that. I would never tell Kelly this, because it would crush her, but I’ve never felt that way before when I’ve come. Not ever. Bloody hell. It was like I was being turned inside out, my body exploding and imploding so utterly with hard, twisting ecstasy, and I struggled to keep my sanity, it felt that good.  
  
How the fuck did you do this to me? Make me experience such powerful, mind-blowing orgasms that no-one else, not even my wonderful wife, can invoke in me? I hate you for it. Because it shouldn’t be like that. I shouldn’t feel that good wanking off to my best friends talking dirty to one another. It’s just not right. But you don’t even see that. At least Matt did, if only at first.  
  
Everything fell silent except for my gasping, laboured breaths in the hot, small room I was shut in. I lay there trembling, hot and damp, my belly sticky with the evidence of the pleasure I’d endured, and my cock twitching and sensitive in my hand. I couldn’t think, just completely gobsmacked, for a few moments before I heard Matt’s voice the other side of the door.  
  
“What the fuck...?!” he muttered to you, his voice barely above a whisper, sounding panicked.  
  
I felt my breath catch in my throat as I realised what I’d done.  
  
“Chris...?” he called, hesitantly.  
  
I didn’t answer.  
  
I swallowed hard, unable to move as it occurred to me how much shit I was in now I’d been found out by Matt. It was bad enough before when you knew I’d been listening out to you two together, but now I’d revealed to both of you that the thought of it alone was enough to make me touch myself. I’m sure you’d suspected as much since the previous night, but now you could actually bear witness to the fact I was willing to make myself come from eavesdropping on your conversations.  
  
I heard you trying to stifle a giggle, and Matt hissed anxious questions about whether you’d heard me, or if he was just imagining things. There was the sound of someone shifting off seats and two sets of footsteps moved close to the door. Matt tried the handle, still calling out to me, a little louder now. Thank God I’d locked it earlier, otherwise Matt would have been in for the shock of his life.  
  
“He won’t answer you, and he’s definitely not gonna come out,” you said to Matt.  
  
“Why?” he asked, the confusion evident in his voice.  
  
At that point, I don’t think it had clicked for him what my noises and swearing really meant. But you knew, of course you did. And you weren’t going to let me off easily.  
  
“Cos he doesn’t want you to see him like this, after what he did,” you explained. “He feels bad about it, for some fucking reason.”  
  
“What? Bad about what? What did he do?” Matt asked, still oblivious.  
  
You started laughing again, and I ventured a shaky hand under the bunk to search for tissues. At least if I could clean myself up, I could stop thinking for a few seconds about what a fucking bastard I was for enjoying something so perverted and sick. I could just pretend it never happened.  
  
“He was listening to us the whole time we were talking about fucking each other, and ends up moaning and swearing,” you said, your voice lowered so only me and Matt would hear. “What do you _think_ he was doing in there?”  
  
There was silence again as I shifted myself into sitting position on the bunk, zipping my trousers back up and discarding the tissues I’d used to hastily clean up the mess I’d made. My hands were still shaking, my head spinning from what I’d just gone through; I wasn’t expecting such an intense experience as that, despite feeling as frustrated as I did beforehand. I just thought I’d have a quick pull and come, and that would be it, all over with. But it wasn’t.  
  
“Fuck off...” Matt muttered in disbelief. “Chris would never...he doesn’t do perverted things like that.”  
  
How I wish he was right. And up until those couple of weeks ago, he was. My sexual tastes have always be conservative and mundane, compared to yours and Matt’s. I was never that interested in multiple partners, or bondage, or crazy positions, or any of that stuff the two of you toyed with. Just being inside a hot woman with nice curves was enough for me. So I’d thought.  
  
“Well apparently we don’t know him as well as we think, because he does, and did,” you argued.  
  
I sank my head into my hands, staring at the floor, my heart still racing and that sickly guilt beginning to wash over me again. I tried to push it back down, tell myself it was just another ordinary wank I’d had because I was away from Kelly. It wasn’t anything to do with you two, other than you happened to be in the next room and caught me doing it. If I said it over in my head enough, maybe I would start to believe it.  
  
But as you started to recount to Matt just what had happened last night, it was hard to distinguish exactly when and if I’d stopped thinking about the two of you the entire time we’d been back on the road. My every waking thought of the last two days had consisted of me either zoning out into spontaneous fantasies of you and Matt groping one another, or attempting desperately to distract myself with some random pastime to not think of those things. There was no escaping the fact that I’d become obsessed, and it was doubtful I could honestly separate those thoughts from touching myself as I had just then.  
  
Much to my relief, Matt had doubts that I‘d watched you last night to get off on it, and he insisted that I was probably just in shock, that’s why I didn’t look away. In truth, I think he was in denial because he really didn’t want to believe it, and was panicking that someone had found out the two of you are sexually involved. But his scepticism turned out to be a blessing for me, because you started arguing in hushed, irritated tones, and forgot about me for a few minutes at least.  
  
“What’s the big fucking deal?!” you asked. “Don’t you think it’s even a little bit funny?”  
  
“ _Funny_?! Are you fucking crazy? This is _Chris_ we’re talking about!” Matt replied, trying to keep quiet. “And he _knows_ that we’re...that’s not funny! It’s a big fucking problem!”  
  
You went on like this, bantering back and forth for a while, before your voices grew so loud and snappy that you realised it was going to be noticed by everyone else soon. And this was definitely no bloody topic you wanted everyone else hearing about, and neither did I. Everything was so fucking complicated as it was, I dreaded to think what would happen if Tom or Morgan found out what you’d done. What I’d done.  
  
I heard Matt make a snide comment before stomping loud footsteps away from my door and presumably out to the front of the bus, away from you. You sighed loudly and called after him, thankfully forgetting me and making your way out too, obviously hoping to talk him around. Whatever the reason, the two of you were gone, and I breathed a sigh of relief, my shoulders slumping.  
  
I felt exhausted, still, and now had a strange, empty feeling inside me. At the time, I didn’t know what it was, and just dismissed it as tiredness from lack of sleep and emotional turmoil. But now I know better. That odd, hollow sensation was something I’d forgotten, something I hadn’t felt for several weeks, something that the indulgence of self-pleasuring to your voices had caused.  
  
Satisfaction.


	7. Chapter 7

_Satisfaction_.  
  
A good thing normally, yes. And in the past, it always has been for me. But you’ve made me change my opinion in these last few wretched, heated weeks. I never knew I could feel so satisfied and horrifyingly guilty at the same time. But this… thing …whatever is going on with all of us, that’s how it makes me feel.  
  
Especially the day after I’d had that unbelievably intense wanking session to you and Matt talking dirty to one another. Immediately after, I’d been able to fool myself; lie and pretend it didn’t mean anything, it wasn’t to do with the two of you, and I had nothing to feel bad about. I think I was so overwhelmed by the experience, how good it felt, that my brain stopped functioning properly and allowed me believe anything I told it. Ignorance can be bliss, and that night it was the only thing that let me sleep soundly; something I hadn’t done in so long.  
  
But the next morning was a differently story, because reality came crashing back in as soon as I opened my eyes. I looked up at the dark paintwork of my bunk with rushing, shame-laden thoughts of the previous afternoon, and had no idea how I was going to face the world now. How could I look at my wife, my children, my friends, and especially the two of you, after all I’d done and felt?  
  
My hands found their way to the worn leather wallet at the side of my bunk, and I shuffled through various currency and hand-written notes before drawing out what I was looking for.  
  
I felt the pull of tight, guilty bindings around my heart as I scanned the glossy photo of smiling faces; Kelly, myself and the kids frozen in a moment of mayhem around the dinner table. It was taken a couple of months back at home in Teignmouth, at a time when the band had a little bit of a breather. My fingers traced over each of the faces in turn, smiling grimly at the memories and love for every one of the people in it. Except one, of course: me.  
  
I covered over my own face with my thumb, blotting out the image of the liar I had grown to hate, wishing I could remove myself so easily in real life and know that they would be okay without me. But I can’t. I’m stuck in this surreal new existence, with no obvious means of escape or adjustment. I’m fucked up, my life is fucked up, and its all my own fault for not being able to control this perverse, hungry libido of mine.  
  
As my eyes continued to linger over the happy family caught in that moment of time, the shame pulled harder at my insides when I remembered who had taken that photo; you. Of course, the bloody agony of this situation was compounded by the fact that you and Matt infiltrate every single facet of my life, so that even simple memories of my own family are not devoid of your presence.  
  
I remembered how you’d come down to visit, dropping by unannounced, and insisted on taking a few snaps for this very purpose; to have on the road with me when they couldn’t come. How can you be so thoughtful with something like that, and yet so thoughtless with this damn current situation?  
  
I shoved the photo back into my wallet, unable to look at those trusting, loving eyes any longer, and filed my family away into a place where I’m wishing these treacherous feelings can’t get to them.  
  
I’ve started to think this is how multiple personalities start. You become so split by opposing feelings and situations you find yourself in, that its easier to just pretend that two different lives, two different people exist.  
  
There’s the one I started with: devoted husband, father, and generally laid-back guy who is content with just playing music and spending time with family and friends for the rest of his life.  
  
Then there’s the other.  
  
The man that has a taste for voyeurism of his two best friends when they kiss, touch and fuck each other in secret. Who loves to listen to them talk dirty to each other, and touch himself while doing it. Who wants to see and hear more of their deceitful activities because it turns him on more and makes him come harder than anything else ever has in his whole life.  
  
These two people can’t exist together. But they do. In me.  
  
My stomach churning with guilt and self-hatred, I pulled myself grudgingly from my bunk and began to dress, knowing I wouldn’t be getting hungry anytime soon because of it. By the shafts of light peeking through the bus windows from outside, it still looked fairly early in the morning, and I couldn’t hear anyone else moving about on the bus. We’d already stopped somewhere, and either everyone was still asleep or they’d nipped out before I’d woken up.  
  
As my eyes roved the empty bunk opposite, and I opened the door to the next section, I realised the latter was true. It was eerily quiet, probably seeming strange because of the mood I was in. I felt cold and isolated from everyone on the bus, because there was no-one I could confide in about my turbulent feelings, no-one that would understand. So the hallways felt even more empty than they should, the buffered silence so deafening that my footsteps sounded loud and intrusive as I made my way toward the door.  
  
I stepped out into the early morning air, quickly feeling enveloped by its mugginess, and shut the bus door behind me. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I adjusted the clock settings to local time.  
  
 _6:43am_  
  
It was early, I was right. And a Thursday, apparently. I never know what day or time it is most of the time when we tour like this; minutes and hours and days blur into one another, and especially when crossing back and forth time zones. That’s why I like to go home so often, it keeps me anchored, keeps me sane. Maybe that’s a reason why you and Matt embarked on this fucking crazy idea of sleeping with one another; it seemed completely okay because you’d lost touch with reality somewhere along the way.  
  
Neither of you have ever really kept a permanent home or residence, and I don’t really know what that kind of drifting, rootless existence does to someone over a long period of time. Especially with the general lack of rules and responsibility we’ve had, and plentiful access to drink, drugs and sex. That type of life’s gotta warp a person if they don’t have anyone to keep them grounded. Maybe its my fault too then. I should have looked out for you more.  
  
I let out a sigh and scrolled through my phonebook, settling on Tom’s number and pushing call. I chatted with him for a couple of minutes, and he gave me directions to where you’d all wandered off to; a small eatery not far down the road, open for breakfast. I wasn’t really in the mood to eat, but there was fuck all chance of me getting back to sleep, and I could hardly avoid everyone for the whole day again.  
  
On the up side, Tom mentioned the two of you had not stopped bitching at one another since waking up, dubbing your arguments and silent treatments a “lover’s tiff”. God, he didn’t even know how sickeningly right he was. Still, it made me feel better and persuaded me to join everyone for breakfast. It sounds horrible, I know, that I feel good about my two best friends fighting, but I figured it was better than the alternative for now.  
  
I just needed to sort through all this shit with the two of you, make it stop, and never speak of it again. I didn’t think I was prepared for confrontation that day though, and fortunately your spat gave me time to deal with my own crap first before talking to you about it. So, once again, avoidance was the tactic for the day.  
  
And surprisingly, it worked a hell of a lot better than it did the previous day. I was able to hang out with Tom and Morgan most of the time, speaking to the two of you only when completely necessary, and not once did you attempt to taunt me like before. Granted, that was probably because you were in a right fucking mood because of your falling out with Matt, and barely spoke to anyone anyway.  
  
Tom asked me a couple of times if I knew what the hell was going on with you two, but I feigned ignorance and just told him to ask you about it if he really wanted to know. You’re not the only one that can play games; a taste of your own fucking medicine for once, you arrogant bastard.  
  
So, over the course of that day, I started feeling better and better about the situation, more in control than I had for weeks, and thought I was finally getting the upper hand in all of this shit.  
  
But of course, I was wrong.  
  
Again.  
  
Kelly called me that day to let me know Alfie was feeling better and that she’d meet up with me the next night, in time for our gig. I was relieved I only had to endure another twenty four hours or so without her, and then I could go back to my real, normal life and put this whole, horribly disgusting saga behind me. But a lot can happen in twenty four hours.  
  
And what transpired that night, last night, changed me forever. I can’t go back. Can’t undo it. I don’t even know if I want to. God, I didn’t think it was possible to hate myself more than I did when I first realised the two of you together turns me on. But somehow, I keep surprising myself with how even more depraved I can be than before.  
  
Fuck, I hate this person I’ve become. And I hate you for making me this way.  
  
But I know, I know, I can’t just blame you. I’ve had plenty of chances to reprimand you about your seedy involvement with each other, but I’ve let it slide. Because I want to. I want you to keep doing it. Even after what happened last night. Probably _because_ of what happened last night.  
  
What the fuck is wrong with me, Dom?  
  
That evening, after a few more tense hours on the bus and pit-stops for food and arguments, Tom pointed out that you and Matt had disappeared into one of the other sections of the bus, and no shouting had been heard for some time. The quiet and possibility of reconciliation scared the shit out of me. I didn’t want you on speaking terms again. I wanted snide comments and cold shoulders, and everyone walking on eggs shells around you. It made me feel secure and much less nervous.  
  
I didn’t go looking for you, just wasted the rest of the night playing poker with the other guys, an anxious knot beginning to form in my stomach. The weather had begun to grow unsettled as we drove on through the night, heavy drops of rain smacking on the windows and the low rumble of thunder moving closer and closer. When I did retire to bed, I was relieved to find the space dark and empty, and absolutely no sign of you or Matt for quite a while.  
  
It was fairly late, and I had been slipping in and out of consciousness, when I heard the familiar click of the door to our section. The noise and the shuffle of feet pulled me slowly from my sleep, and my belly grew suddenly tight with nervousness at the thought of Matt being in the room alone with me. I didn’t know what the hell he’d say to me, what he’d think of me, after finding out what I’d been doing these past weeks. Would he grow to find it amusing and exciting that I liked to listen and watch, or would his opinion of me now be permanently marred, that I’d somehow let him down?  
  
Those worries were soon eliminated and replaced with a far more real gut-wrenching terror as I heard voices murmuring in the dark. It was _both_ of you. And clearly no longer angry at each other. I was gripped with fear as Matt giggled softly and the door closed behind you, my heart pounding in my ears and eyes suddenly wide. I couldn’t move, couldn’t think anything but _oh god_ , as the loud clunk of the door lock echoed in the room.  
  
This was it. I was in for it now.


	8. Chapter 8

My head spun as there was more low murmuring, tones heavy with desire and excitement, though I couldn’t hear exactly what you were saying over the gentle drumming of the rain outside. Whatever arguments and objections had been present before had evidently been resolved, and I was back to where I started, trying to suppress the hunger I had for listening to you. Only now, you were both aware I could hear you, and made no attempt to be subtle or particularly quiet in your activities.  
  
The shuffle of bare feet stumbling on the floor, heavy breaths and the moist smack of lips against one another, the rustle of hands roving over and under clothes quickly, desperately. _Not again, god no, not again_ , I prayed to myself. But even as I tried to shut out the sounds of Matt whispering your name in want, I already knew it was too late. I was hard and aching within split-seconds of the first kisses, my heart ratcheting up and up in tempo, pumping blood hard and fast through my veins, flooding me with hormones.  
  
You were right there now too, not bothering with the bunk, but just groping and devouring each other right next to me with my curtain the only barrier from your activities. Lightning flashed and illuminated your silhouettes, fused almost as one with your hips and mouths pressed together, limbs still moving furiously to touch each other everywhere all at once.  
  
I told myself to get up, stop you, shout at you, but I didn’t listen. My hands fidgeted and itched, pulling at the bed sheets as my erection called to me, like it always did now, pleading for relief. I denied it at first, and I really tried, though I knew in the back of my mind that I was fighting a losing battle. I had already given in once, and there was no way my body was going to forget something that felt that fucking incredible any time soon. And it wasn’t going to let me deprive myself of a repeat experience, now the chance was right here again.  
  
You let out a groan, soft and low in the back of your throat, and my mind whirred as it attempted to visualise what Matt would be doing to make you make that noise. Just where those groping, mischievous hands of his had strayed to; quick and devious as they slid under your shirt and down your abdomen to dive between your legs and take hold of you. That thought alone, Matt’s tongue in your mouth and your cock in his hand, made my whole body shudder and my own erection surge and twitch.  
  
I bit my lip as I continued to listen, my eyelids fluttering shut as I let the sounds wash over me; Matt’s heavy grunts joining your noises of pleasure, and further rustling of fabric that told me you were starting to undress each other. Clearly you had grown tired of the subtleties that clothing provided, and now just craved bare flesh upon flesh as quickly as possible. I did too. My blood rushed in my ears as the two of you struggled and heaved, tearing off whatever items covered your bodies so quickly that you stumbled and bumped against the sides of the bunks.  
  
My heart seized and eyes flew open when you crashed briefly against mine, ruffling the curtain and letting out quiet chuckles. You were so close to me; entangled and hungry, turned on by the touch of each other and also by being listened in on.  
  
The rain outside was starting to come down harder and drown out some of the breathing and quieter movements you made, but I still heard you fumble some more and then thump as you both fell to the ground. The groaning and wet noises of your tongues in each others’ mouths continued, and it occurred to me that neither of you even cared that you were going at it right there on the floor, despite its discomfort. You were too caught up in each others’ bodies, too focused on the heat, the hunger, the depravity of it all to give a damn. And you were doing it for me.  
  
My presence was turning you and Matt on. My presence and my desire. I don’t even want to say what ran through my head at that realisation. That the extra fire, that sharper edge of desperation in your kisses, touches and moans was because of me. I don’t want to say because I don’t know what it means, but I know I should hate myself for it.  
  
My body screamed at me. My skin felt like it was on fire. My lungs gasped for air as my breathing laboured. My fingers twitched and grasped at the bed. I could feel the sheets underneath me beginning to grow damp with sweat. And oh God, my cock. It wanted to be touched, sucked, fucked, just anything to try and satiate the dark, ravenous need you created in me. I knew, I fucking know, that I shouldn’t let it control me. That it’s just hormones and my fucked up brain getting the wrong signals to give me physical reward to your stimulus, when it shouldn’t.  
  
I knew all this, but it didn’t stop me.  
  
Now that it was both of you conspiring against me, I had no chance. You were both bent on driving me insane with your involvement with one another; each laboured breath, choked groan and stroke of skin a deliberate measure to send me closer and closer to breaking point.  
  
As Matt began low, heavy murmuring to you over the harder pounding rain, I began to come undone and lost all sense of subtly I may have had. Every grunted, wanting phrase of his was answered by my own curses and desperate cries of need.  
  
“Oh, fuck, that’s it, like that…”  
  
“ _Shit_ …”  
  
“Your hands…oh, fuck, that’s good…”  
  
“Oh God…”  
  
“Oh…oh…mmm…ugh…”  
  
“Fuck…fuck… _oh_ …”  
  
My last responses ended with surrender to my itching hands, as I took hold of myself and began to tread down that perilous path of self-indulgence once again. I wouldn’t stop myself, it felt too God damn good, and my body wanted to know those giddy heights of intense orgasm like before. So I just continued to let my hands increase the tension that had begun to build in my body, my mind swimming with guttural lust and animal hunger, as I listened to you and you listened right back.  
  
I heard some more thudding and further peeling of fabric from skin, knowing that it was likely you were both stark naked by now, and then Matt let out a short, choked cry. The brush of skin on skin and heavy breaths were hard to hear over the rain now, lightning flashing more frequently and the rumble of thunder growing closer and closer. But I managed to make out the sound of Matt keening again, and your voice, tone thick with desire, joined his in a low moan.  
  
“I…you want to…feel me?” you asked, sentences clearly difficult to string together in this state.  
  
Matt just grunted in response, his rapid breathing still audible despite the rain.  
  
“…Want _this_ …?”  
  
The last word was punctuated by a stifled cry from Matt, and I shivered at the thought of what you’d just done to make your point. I knew where this was heading.  
  
“I…want it,” Matt managed.  
  
You shifted your weight on the floor, limbs thudding against the carpet, and then let out a clipped cry. I didn’t know why that was. But I wanted to.  
  
“Want…you to fuck me…” Matt growled, more determined now.  
  
I was sure I couldn’t breathe anymore, my head spinning.  
  
“ _Fuck me_ , Dom…”  
  
On Matt’s last demand, a low, short moaning noise like the sound of a wounded animal filled the air, desperate in its cry. I realised it was coming from me.  
  
I wasn’t ready for this, I wasn’t prepared. The hand jobs and blow jobs had been too much for me to cope with as it was, let alone _this_.  
  
There was more thudding sounds and the rustle of someone rifling in a bag, and then the tear of plastic was just barely audible. I heard the snap of a lid opening and found myself starting to shake as all the pieces fell into place in my head. Though Matt had said it, the reality of hearing you prepare yourselves for this act was hitting me hard.  
  
Part of me wished I was dreaming. Part of me was pleased I wasn’t. It was the latter part I listened to the most.  
  
My hand worked slowly and firmly, drawing out in long strokes to prolong these horribly wonderful feelings, and answer the call of this dark hunger I felt for the two of you together. I looked down to see the head of my cock wet with pre-come, and allowed my thumb to trace over it, the lubricated sensation making my eyes roll back in my head. I bit my lip and shivered, revelling in the feeling of being so unbelievably turned on, my body humming with sexual tension.  
  
Matt whimpered low and long again, but was cut short by his own cry and the sound of bodies moving roughly. By the sharpness of his call and the shuddering moan of your voice, I could only imagine that you’d penetrated him. That _you_ , Dom, my blonde, chirpy band mate, currently had your cock buried in _him_ , Matt, my dark-haired, motor-mouth other band mate. The thought did my head in. And made me horny as fuck.  
  
Of all the mistakes I’ve made these last few weeks, what happened next was probably the worst. Everything else could be forgotten, filed away under stupidity and desperation, and not have too many lingering consequences. But the choice I made next meant crossing a line, doing something I couldn’t come back from, and changed everything between the three of us forever.  
  
In the mad, hazy heat of lust and need for more, my fingers curled their way around the edge of the bunk curtain. With a slow, languorous movement, I drew back the fabric, sliding the curtain half-way across, and let my eyes begin to wander over the scene that was set up on the floor before me.  
  
You had Matt on all fours, his dark hair askew, eyes heavy-lidded and mouth hanging open slightly to take in slow breaths. His cheeks were flushed and the tight muscles in his wiry arms and legs tensed intermittently with each rise and fall of his chest. It was dark, but every occasional flash of lightning illuminated his body enough for me to get a full glimpse of the shine of sweat on his skin, the submissive bend in his back and the twitch of desire in his hard cock.  
  
Then there was you.  
  
Your longer, stockier body arched over his, enveloping him with one arm wrapped around his slim chest and the two of you connected fully at your hips and his arse. It was clear from the flush placement of skin against skin and the expression on your faces that you were plunged deeply inside his body, your cock no longer visible to my eyes. Your own cheeks were coloured from exertion and arousal, and your blonde locks stuck to your skin here and there with sweat.  
  
The sight was so incredible, so shocking to my naive eyes, and remains as the single image from all of this that I know I won’t forget. The darkness it stirred in me was something I had never experienced before, something almost indescribable. It took my breath away and made me tremble all over, and I don’t think my mind knew exactly how to process it or even react to it.  
  
When your grey eyes drifted away from the figure below to lock onto mine, I saw then the feverish desire burning in them, so dark, and intended for me as well as Matt. I swallowed hard but couldn’t break the gaze, too caught up in the base, animal need swimming in those depths. Thoughts of my wife and my family came and went, the situation I was in now unaffected by their presence. It was as though they didn’t exist, that this small, hot room created a world untouched by anything else. Here, they didn’t matter. Here, it was just the three of us and our growing, synchronous need for sex, pleasure and fulfilment. I didn’t want to leave it.  
  
I took in the shape of your form pressed over his; thicker, musclier limbs bearing down on the smaller man with a definite air of control and demand for pleasure. The balance of power was clearly in your favour, but I had a strong feeling Matt liked it that way, and you knew that. You began slow, deep thrusts of your hips, drawing your cock part of the way out before plunging back hard into Matt’s arse, making him cry out and arms shake. I watched, mesmerised, hand on my own cock as you fucked him, the scene almost surreal. Your hips rolled and movements became more fluid with each thrust, building up a steady, confident rhythm to heighten pleasure for both of you.  
  
I watched your damp lips as they remained parted, drawing in heavy breaths and occasionally opening wider in a silent “oh” at particularly gratifying strokes. I could barely imagine how you felt; the way your cock slid in and out of Matt’s arse was clearly a highly pleasurable experience, but something so foreign to me as to stoke a perverse curiosity to know it. Sure, I had been there with women before, my wife, but this just seemed different somehow. Men were built differently, and by the same token must feel different to fuck.  
  
Matt was lithe but strong, and, as I watched him whimpering and compliant under your movements, strangely vulnerable. He yielded to your every will, allowing you to grip him hard and manoeuvre him as roughly as you wished while you fucked him. But despite this submissive demeanour, his body appeared more than capable to cope with it. It was obvious he could be bent but wouldn’t break, and the thought intrigued me. The women I had been with were similar in this way, but Matt, paradoxically, had a confident streak that shone through despite the subservient role he’d adopted. He was being fucked because he wanted to be, not because you wanted to fuck him.  
  
I’d barely noticed your other hand creep around Matt’s hip and take his cock in your fist, too captivated by the expressions on your face and movements of your pelvis to see it. You weren’t neglectful in your fucking of him, drawing out as much bliss for him as you were feeling from being inside his body. Then again, if you were a selfish, crap lover, then it was unlikely Matt would keep coming back for more time and again. For however long this had already gone on.  
  
Soft moans drifted from my lips as I watched you continue your furious, hungry movements against one another, the pace beginning to quicken as the seconds ticked by and flashes of lightning increased in frequency. I thought I could watch you fuck each other for hours on end, but it was clear this wasn’t going to last very long, because all of us were so damn hungry for it. My own hand worked harder, each stroke shorter and more impatient than the last, blood rushing loudly in my ears.  
  
I looked over to see Matt’s eyes on me now, his gaze continually drawn down to my tense, jerking arm, his stare hungry and pleading. The curtain was in the way, he could only see to the top of my belly and forearm, my actual motions on myself blocked from view. He wanted to see me, I could see it in his eyes. He wanted the stark, intense vision of my hand on my cock, wanking to the two of you fucking each other. Without further thought, I yanked the rest of the curtain back, exposing myself.  
  
Matt’s eyes glazed over at the sight, and he let out a louder groan, his arms buckling underneath himself so he rested down onto his forearms. The lowering of his upper body caused his arse to stick up at a higher angle, and you gasped, the change in position clearly intensifying the sensations you felt. Recovering quickly, you slid a hand down to grab a tight hold of Matt’s hips, using them as leverage to fuck him harder and faster, and make him the one to gasp this time.  
  
As I watched his spine arch further, the long slope of his back making a yielding curve, and your hand come up to slide along it in admiration, it occurred to me that this was the most erotic image I had ever seen in my whole life. The two of you were so perfectly synched, fit each other just right, and such radiated sexuality and raw desire that I don’t think anyone could stop themselves getting turned on by this, least of all me.  
  
Matt’s head had come down to rest between his forearms, forehead pressed to the floor, and I could just see the way his eyelids hung heavy, eyes rolled back and mouth open as you continued to drive into him. He was completely lost in feeling, I could see it in his face, just letting the sensation of being fucked like this overwhelm him, and I couldn’t help but stare in wonder. The building tension in my belly was growing stronger and stronger as I watched, my hand moving deliberately quickly now to draw out as much pleasure as possible. It felt fucking unbelievable to touch myself like this, watching the two of you, and knowing you were enjoying watching me too, I could barely gasp in enough air.  
  
You changed position of your hips, shifting Matt’s also and pressing down in his lower back with one hand, before resuming your thrusts once again. However, the adjustment clearly made a huge difference to Matt, because his body began to shudder, muscles trembling, and he threw his head up to cry out as you fucked him this way. The look in his eyes was wild, his gaze slipping between my cock and my face, undecided as to which one to settle on.  
  
“Fuck, oh fuck...shit, oh...fucking hell...oh...”  
  
He whined out a string of expletives, and I was once again in awe of what he must be feeling. My head somehow remembered about how pushing against the prostate can feel fucking intense for a bloke, and I figured that’s what you must be doing to Matt to make him fall apart like that.  
  
My eyes drew away from Matt to meet yours again, your gaze still fixed on me and that dark look still present in their depths. But you hardly looked at me touching myself, just kept staring into my wide eyes as your hips moved faster and faster, expressions of ecstasy washing over your features again and again. Your mouth hung open, lips flushed with arousal, and I saw your tongue move about restlessly once or twice inside. It crossed my mind that maybe you were actually imagining fucking me, instead of Matt. My body trembled at the thought.  
  
Matt’s body had begun to shudder, and hands clawed at the carpet as the seconds ticked by, and I realised he wasn’t going to last much longer. I tore my eyes away from yours for a few moments to find him staring at me again, mouth hanging agape as he gasped for air.  
  
“Chris...” he whimpered.  
  
His body began to jerk and spasm, and he cried out as he came, your hand tight around his cock as you drew out the orgasm for him. I watched, mesmerised, as he shot all over your fist and onto the floor. You weren’t far behind, probably provoked by him tensing around you, your hips bucking erratically and driving yourself hard into Matt, the sensations overwhelming you.  
  
“ _Chris_...”  
  
The sound of my name spoken like that from your lips was too much, and I started to come, hard and with the intensity of before, body shaking. But as I did so, with my eyes pinned to yours, something happened that I hadn’t planned on.  
  
“ _Dom_...”  
  
Your name choked out from my own throat so desperately, it was a shock to you as well as to me, because your brow furrowed as you continued to ride your orgasm. We stared at each other, sharing these deep, unadulterated feelings of pleasure, and all other thought left my head, my mind slowing to a crawl. Your eyes were glazed, heavy-lidded as you suffered through the aftershocks, hips beginning to lose momentum and strength, and I could hear you breathing rapidly over Matt’s slower, deeper breaths.  
  
The feelings began to ebb away, my hand and belly sticky with my come, but I couldn’t move, paralysed briefly by exhaustion and astonishment. My body hummed with gratification, muscles happily tired and skin tingling, and I could feel my heart beating hard in my chest. I felt fucking unbelievably satisfied. But as we continued to watch each other, my strength began to waver and I realised I couldn’t look at you anymore. It was too much. I had gone too far.  
  
With my spare hand, I yanked the curtain back across and prayed you wouldn’t just wander right over and open it back up. I couldn’t talk to you right now because things had just gone from bad to fucking worse.  
  
What in the hell had I just done?


	9. Chapter 9

In some ways, I can still hardly believe what happened.  
  
That I, Chris Wolstenholme, watched you, Dominic Howard, fuck Matt Bellamy on the floor of a tour bus last night. And that I let you see me jerk myself to orgasm from said act.  
  
Fuck.  
  
How can that be real? The three of us are supposed to be best friends for fuck’s sake. Best friends in an internationally successful rock band. Me with a wife and kids, and you two with long-term girlfriends. It shouldn’t _be_. It’s just fucking ridiculous.  
  
And I let it happen, I know I did. You two have apparently managed perfectly well with this seedy affair before I even knew anything about it, and it should have stayed that way. You want to be cheating bastards, then so be it, I shouldn’t really be that surprised. I know you well enough to not be that fucking angry about it. But I _am_ angry, because I’m angry at myself.  
  
I should have called you on it when I first found out, but I didn’t. I got off on listening to the two of you together. I touched myself because of it. And then I stepped over the line by actually watching you completely, honestly, openly. And let _you_ see _me_. That’s the kicker, right there. Because before that, it was mostly just a one-way affair; you groped, I listened. But I changed the rules by actually interacting, actively participating almost.  
  
And so now, I’m fucked. I don’t know what to do. I feel angry, ashamed, sick and anxious about this whole damn mess. I don’t know how to fix it. In fact, I don’t even think it _can_ be fixed. Things are just going to get more broken.  
  
And I don’t understand how you two aren’t shitting yourselves about this. Well, you don’t seem to be anyway. We’ve arrived at the city our gig is going to be in tonight, and done a couple of sounds checks already, but the two of you are acting like nothing has even fucking happened. Like my life, and probably yours, aren’t totally fucking screwed now.  
  
Because I know mine is. How can you not know that though? Or not care? Both of you care about Kelly, my kids, I know you do. We’ve been this big, crazy travelling family for so long now, you treat them with as much love and care as you do me. So how can you pretend like what happened, what is _still_ happening, between the three of us doesn’t affect them? Like things won’t change, and my family won’t be destroyed because of it?  
  
God, I don’t even want to think about what Kelly will say when she finds out. I’ll see her in a few hours, and I’m going to tell her. I need to. I can’t keep this a secret anymore. Will she just be so crushed and break down into tears as she realises the man she married isn’t who she thought he was? Or will she get angry, yell at me, completely spit it and never want to see me again? And my kids…  
  
She’ll take them.  
  
I know she will. She has good reason to. They shouldn’t be near someone like me anymore.  
  
Oh Christ. I think I’m going to be sick. The thought of never seeing my children again, its too much. Too much. It fucking hurts. Hurts so much. The full consequences of my actions didn’t even occur to me last night, my brain didn’t function because of how horny I was. I only wanted the pleasure, and nothing else mattered. But now it does, and I don’t know what to do.  
  
Maybe that’s why I’ve agreed to meet with you and Matt, to talk about this. There’s been too much action and not enough talk for so long, its about time everything was actually discussed. And then maybe you’ll have a way to fix all this. Probably not, but I’ve got no fucking ideas, so its worth a shot.  
  
After the last sound check, you cornered me behind one of the speaker stacks where no-one else could see us, grabbing my shoulder and pinning me back against the cold metal surface. I must have looked fucking terrified, I sure felt it, as your expression fixed me in place, face uncomfortably close to mine. I could feel your breath on my skin, and despite you actually being shorter and less bulky than me, you were so damn intimidating.  
  
“Meet us in Green Room 4, in an hour. We need to talk.”  
  
Your words were clipped, firm, and there was no question in there at all. I was being told what to do. I just nodded dumbly, swallowing hard. Your eyes traced over my face for a few moments longer, and I wondered what was going through your head during those long seconds, myself too dazed to put it into words.  
  
Then you were gone, and I was left trembling against the speakers with weak knees and racing heart, my mind whirring about what the hell I was going to say to you in an hour’s time.  
  
Which brings me to now. I’m here, in Green Room 4, waiting anxiously for you and Matt to arrive. It’s been almost an hour, so you shouldn’t be too far away, but I’m still no closer to working out what I’m going to say to the both of you. Like I said before, I think I’ll just see what you think and go from there. Throughout this whole ordeal, I’ve had no clue as to what the two of you even think about what’s been going on.  
  
Are you worried at all? Or you just don’t care what happens? I don’t think that could be true. If it is, then I honestly don’t know you at all, after more than 15 years of friendship. You’re not that callous, that cold-hearted. I know I said before that the lifestyle we’ve had could fuck a person up, but I don’t think you’re that far gone. You’ve both had too many people looking out for you, to keep you grounded at least a little, for you to have turned into a completely selfish bastard.  
  
But even if this turns out to be the best-case scenario, that you do care and you really don’t want my family to fall apart, everything is still damaged beyond repair as far as I can tell. After last night, things will always be different between the three of us. There’s no denying that, no going back. And like I said, I don’t think I want to. I don’t want to stop watching you fuck each other, it felt too bloody good, all of it. I _need_ it now.  
  
But, oh God…what does that mean? What does that make me? Before I was just a pervert, listening in when you didn’t know, but after last night…Does that mean…Am I…?  
  
No. _No_. It’s not like that.  
  
Not that, I can’t think like that. I fucking have a wife, for fuck’s sake. Oh God, my head, it hurts, this is bollocks, everything is so fucked up. I just need you to fix this, give me answers. You’ll know what to do. Someone has to, so it might as well be you.  
  
_Shit_.  
  
You’re here. There’s a knock on the door and its opening, cautiously. Your face peers around it and I’m frozen to the spot. Deer in headlights again.  
  
You look nervous too. That’s slightly comforting, in a strange way.  
  
You and Matt both come inside, and you lock the door behind you. For some reason, that makes me more nervous.  
  
Matt is watching me with those hard, piercing eyes of his, and I shift uncomfortably under his gaze. He is unusually quiet, and that makes it more disturbing, because its not like him to be so guarded with his thoughts. Not with us, anyway.  
  
I look at the floor, down at my feet, but I can feel your eyes on me too. I want you to speak first, because honestly, I don’t know what to say. It’s all so complicated, and I’m not exactly sure how I feel about everything anyway.  
  
You take a step closer to me, and my stomach lurches anxiously, my eyes darting up to meet yours involuntarily. You look less nervous now, more determined, and I feel my heart pounding in the back of my throat.  
  
“Chris, I’m sick of this,” you say, your tone weary more than vicious.  
  
“Of what?” I ask dumbly.  
  
I know perfectly well what you’re talking about. But I can’t seem to speak more than a few words at a time, let alone explain how conflicted I’m feeling. I need you to do all the talking.  
  
“Of avoiding this, all this that’s happened,” you continue.  
  
You don’t sound too pissed off with me yet, so I think you know how fucking terrified and confused I am.  
  
“Especially last night.”  
  
My eyes go wide at this, and I swallow hard. God, I don’t want to think about that again, not here with the two of you. I can see that flicker of desire in your eyes, that darkness, and my stomach begins to knot. My hands are shaking. I’m not sure if that’s from fear or excitement.  
  
“You watched us fuck, Chris. And you liked it. A whole fucking lot.”  
  
I’m not sure if that’s a question, or just a statement. Regardless, I nod slowly, admitting my perversion to the two of you for the first time. I see a smile twitch at Matt’s mouth behind you, and my cheeks start to burn in shame. I _shouldn’t_ have liked it, but I did. I do. Fuck.  
  
“And so what? Why does that mean shit has to be all complicated and twitchy and walking on fucking eggshells with you? What does it matter?”  
  
I stare at you in disbelief.  
  
“What does it _matter_? What does it _fucking_ matter?! Why do you _think_ it fucking matters??!” I yelp hysterically, finding my voice again.  
  
You don’t reply, just stare at me, waiting.  
  
“In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m FUCKING MARRIED, Dom!! And I have CHILDREN!!” I cry, incredulously. “Married men with kids aren’t supposed to get off on watching their two best friends _fuck_ each other!!”  
  
You seem unbelievably calm, as does Matt. In fact, he seems amused at me getting so bloody upset. My hands are still shaking, but more with anger now. I know that its still myself I’m upset with, not really the two of you, but its still a good place to vent my frustration and confusion. You shrug, waving your hand dismissively.  
  
“You’re making a big fucking deal out of nothing, Chris, really. Stop giving yourself a complex about it,” you reply. “It isn’t as dire and life-threatening as you think.”  
  
I shake my head at you, taking a step closer. You aren’t intimidated by my tactic, and I know its because you know me too well. I’m all bark and no bite, despite how I look. Fuck, this isn’t _fair_. I can’t play mind games and have emotional struggles with you because you know all my moves.  
  
“That’s easy for you to say, with hardly any bloody life responsibilities. Except Jess and Gaia, of course, who you clearly don’t give a fuck about anyway!” I snap. “Never mind girlfriends, you’re too busy fucking each other to care!”  
  
“They know.”  
  
I stop dead at your words. I stare at you, and you stare right back, expression serious. You’re not joking. They know? They fucking _know_?!  
  
“And they’re _okay_ with it?!” I splutter.  
  
I can’t imagine how that could be possible. How they could be in serious relationships with the two of you, and have you sleeping with each other as well? I can’t conceive how someone could accept that. I know Kelly sure wouldn’t, and she’d be right not to. I mean, fuck, imagine if the roles were reversed, and I found out Kelly was secretly sleeping with Gaia and Jess?  
  
Oh.  
  
_Fuck_.  
  
Okay.  
  
Bad example. I’m a bloke, so its not really the same thing.  
  
“Well, they… _tolerate_ it,” Matt pipes up.  
  
In other words, they’re not happy with it, but they love you two stupid twats too much to lose you over it. I still can’t quite believe it though. It’s a hell of a lot to ask. I mean, shit, surely then there’s questions over your sexuality? Because clearly you both like fucking men, and that should probably be a worry to your girlfriends.  
  
That said, I like to watch two men fuck each other, so what does that say about me?  
  
Shit.  
  
“So, they honestly just put up with you two cheating on them, then?!” I ask, shaking my head in disbelief. “How the fuck does a relationship work with those kinds of strings?!”  
  
You watch me quietly for a moment, and then frown, sighing.  
  
“Because we don’t live normal lives, Chris, I thought you for one would understand that,” you explain. “Sex is fucking everywhere for us, and when we’re on the road without Jess and Gaia, its really fucking hard to pass it up, you know?”  
  
“Well I’ve fucking managed,” I say snidely.  
  
“Well, we’re not you, Mister fucking Perfect Husband with no sex drive, okay?!” you snap. “I like fucking. No, in fact, I _love_ fucking, and I’ve come to realise it doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to. Sometimes it’s just physical release, and that’s it.”  
  
I exhale in exasperation, unable to quite accept the things you’re saying to me, but knowing you may have a point. I rub my face with my hands and then sigh.  
  
“Gaia knows what I’m like,” Matt interjects, a slightly guilty expression on his face. “And she prefers that I fuck Dom, than a thousand random women across the globe. We’re always safe, and at least she knows where he’s been, unlike most of those fucking slappers we come across.”  
  
This is ridiculous. It’s insane, justifying something so perverse. And to my own horror, I’m starting to think you’re making sense. Oh God.  
  
Your expression has changed, and I can see the heat flickering in your eyes again, and you lick your lips.  
  
“Last night, when you came, watching me and Matt, what did it feel like?” you ask, voice dark.  
  
My mouth drops open, and I stare at you incredulously.  
  
“What the fuck?! Don’t fucking ask me that! I – ”  
  
“Tell me, Chris, it’s a simple question!” you interrupt.  
  
“I’m not – ”  
  
“ _Chris_!”  
  
“It felt fucking INCREDIBLE okay?! The best fucking thing I’ve felt in my whole life! Like I might fucking _die_ because it felt so bloody good!! And I want it to happen all over again just so body, my _cock_ , can feel that way again and again!! FUCK!!”  
  
I’m yelping hysterically by the end of it, face buried in my hands, and I turn away, breaths coming in hard. This is so fucking horrible, I hate you for making me feel this way. So dirty, so depraved.  
  
I jump as I feel your hand on my shoulder, soft and soothing. You’re standing too close behind me, it makes me head hurt.  
  
“And that’s _okay_ , man. It’s okay to feel that way. It doesn’t make you love your wife any less. It’s good to feel that good,” you say, your voice gentle, measured.  
  
“No, it’s not! It’s fucking deceitful!” I protest, my voice wavering.  
  
“Physical pleasure is a _good_ thing. Stop being a fucking martyr about it. You don’t need to feel bad because you haven’t done anything wrong,” you maintain, your hand beginning to rub my shoulder in comfort. “It’s me and Matt who’ve touched someone other than our girlfriends, not you. You were just there, nothing more.”  
  
I shake my head, squeezing my eyes shut. It doesn’t matter that I didn’t join in, its still breaking the trust that I have with Kelly. I’m sure of it. I turn around slowly, and feel my throat constrict at the look in your eyes. You’re so confident, so determined about all of this. I suppose you’ve lived with this complicated life so long, it doesn’t seem that strange to you. But it’s hard for me, and you need to understand that.  
  
“No, it’s not that simple, because I…”  
  
I trail off, and I see your mouth curl into a slight smile. I swallow hard and try again.  
  
“I watched you, and you watched me. When I was wanking to you two fucking. I wasn’t _just there_.”  
  
I can feel my heart thumping in my chest, and my mouth turns dry as you and Matt continue to stare at me like that. Like I’m overreacting, like I’m the one who’s crazy, and not you two. It _is_ a big deal. It _is_. I need to keep telling myself that, because I can feel my resistance beginning to crumble under your pressure. You make it sound so _simple_.  
  
You roll your eyes at me, and that smile spreads itself fully across your face.  
  
“Yeah, okay, but you didn’t touch us, did you?” you ask.  
  
I furrow my brow and shake my head. That’s not the point. It _isn’t_. There’s more to it than that. It’s complicated. Isn’t it?  
  
“Then it doesn’t matter, you’re not cheating, okay?” you reiterate. “So just fucking relax, mate.”  
  
I let out a frustrated grunt and shake my head. It just doesn’t feel right, despite what you’ve just pointed out. There’s still some part of me that knows this isn’t normal. Then again, since when have our lives ever been normal? Fuck. I still can’t accept this as being so easy.  
  
“But I can’t, I – ”  
  
I can’t continue. Because your tongue is in my mouth.  
  
You were so fucking swift and sneaky, I never saw it coming. You just grabbed my head in your hands and next thing I know, I’m being kissed by Dominic Howard.  
  
Fuck.  
  
Fuck.  
  
Oh _Fuck_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the part where the story splits off into two alternative endings. So, feel free to choose whichever path you want, or just read both. They are termed Order and Chaos.


	10. Order (Ending A)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This ending takes Chris down a less morally perilous path, with a compromise and more comfortable resolution to the story.

Your tongue is hard and probing in my mouth, and I feel my stomach turn at the taste and sensation of you kissing me. My mind is screaming at me to throw you off, hit you, just do something, but for these first few seconds I find myself simply paralysed with disgust. What the hell am I meant to make of my best friend kissing me like this? I have no idea why you’re even doing it. What the fuck is going on?! Have you completely lost your mind now?!  
  
Shocked and revolted, I finally manage to gather my wits, grabbing you by your shirt and tearing your lips from mine. I throw you off me roughly, my hands shaking and angry, eyes wide. You stagger backwards, bumping into Matt, who giggles. Recovering quickly, an amused grin spreads across your face and you step back toward me.  
  
“I was just making a fucking point, Chris,” you laugh.  
  
Screwing up my face, I squeeze my eyes shut and start spitting in disgust, trying to get the taste of you out of my mouth. I wipe my tongue on the back of my hand, hoping it will help remove any more traces, but knowing I’m going to be living with that sensory memory for the rest of the fucking week.  
  
Thank you very much, you arsehole, I could have lived my life perfectly fine without the experience of snogging Dominic Howard. My chest feels tight, my throat gagging, and I shake my head, grunting at you in annoyance.  
  
“A point?? A fucking point?!” I snap. “What fucking point would you need to make by doing that?!”  
  
“That he’s a good snog?” Matt sniggers.  
  
He laughs harder at my reaction, my cheeks flushing at his suggestion. I admit, he’s right of course, but God damn it, I didn’t need to know it for myself. I glare at him, and that smug, amused grin still hasn’t left your features. You roll your eyes at me.  
  
“My point was that you _don’t_ want to kiss me or Matt, as your reaction showed,” you explain. “Or fuck us, or anything else for that matter.”  
  
I just stare at you, glowering, not really sure what you’re trying to get at here. Of course I fucking don’t want to shag you, you idiot. Ugh, just thinking about touching you like that makes my skin crawl. Okay, so that might sound a bit stupid after I said I enjoy watching you two fuck, but it’s a different thing. Watching and joining in are two completely separate concepts. With different consequences.  
  
Oh, okay, maybe that’s what you’re getting at.  
  
“No, you taste like shit,” I reply testily.  
  
My hands are still shaking, partially from my irritation with you, but still also from the shock of having you kiss me. My adrenaline is working overtime trying to deal with all this complicated shit. You’re going to give me a fucking heart attack at this rate.  
  
You pout indignantly, but I can tell you’re just feigning it, and I’m not surprised when you break out into another smirk and wink at me.  
  
“Oh, come on, it’s not that bad. Matt certainly doesn’t think so,” you grin.  
  
My stomach knots as Matt saunters up closer behind you, that heated look in his eyes again, and affixes his lips against the skin of your neck, darting out with his tongue. I’m mesmerised as I watch him taste his way up the bare skin of your throat, his eyes fluttering shut and soft moaning noises escaping his lips as he does so. You sigh, clearly enjoying the spontaneous passion he inflicts, and your expression softens as you become awash with desire again.  
  
“Mmm, you taste good,” Matt murmurs.  
  
His eyes open and he looks at me, mischief and excitement dancing in them, and I feel my throat constrict at the shameless exhibition of your lust for one another. It hits me a lot harder than last night, because you’re right here in front of me, no darkness or bunks or silence to hide behind. All the veils have been lifted and I can see you both in the stark reality of sex and need.  
  
You turn your head to meet Matt’s lips with your own, sharing a brief, fierce kiss before turning back to me. Your eyes are a little glazed from your arousal, but the determination from before still lingers in them.  
  
“I meant what I said before, about this not being a big deal,” you continue. “It doesn’t have to be if you don’t want it to be, you know. Just treat it as another new experience for all of us.”  
  
I stare at you incredulously. But then my gaze wavers, wandering to Matt’s hands that fidget at your hips; his fingers tracing shapes over the denim of your jeans, telling tales of just how much more they want to do to that body of yours right now. I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment to push wicked thoughts from my head.  
  
“Oh yeah, just like that, huh? Like another new city, new country, new gig??” I reply derisively.  
  
You break out into a grin, likely from both my sarcastic reply and my response to Matt’s hands on you. Fucking hell, I wish he’d stop it, it’s not helping.  
  
“Yeah, just like that,” you shoot back at me. “It can be that easy, trust me.”  
  
Your eyelids flutter for a moment as Matt’s hand slips inward to scrape his index and middle finger up the fly of your jeans. I can’t help the way my heart starts to race at the sight of you hard under Matt’s touch; you’re not at all ashamed by how much he turns you on, despite the fact that I am.  
  
“How?” I ask weakly. “I don’t see how it can. I mean, Kelly, she...”  
  
I can’t finish my sentence, partly because I don’t want to voice out loud what she’ll probably think of me after she finds out all that’s happened, and partly because I keep getting distracted by Matt’s hands that insist on ravaging you while I speak. I follow them as they slide down your thighs, around to your arse and then back again to return to your crotch, making you groan.  
  
I find my mouth dry again, and it’s difficult to comprehend just how much I enjoy seeing that look on your face when Matt touches you the way he does. I would never have thought it would make me feel this good; fuck, I’m even getting hard now just watching this fairly tame exhibition.  
  
Your eyes are dark and full of want when you open them again, your hands coming down over Matt’s to still his groping, so you can speak to me again.  
  
“Kelly is a fantastic woman. She’s always been understanding, Chris, with touring and all the other crazy shit we’ve done,” you say slowly. “You might be surprised at just how far that understanding stretches.”  
  
I swallow hard at your suggestion. Knowing her as well as I do, it hadn’t occurred to be before that she might be even a little understanding about this. But the thing I’ve learned recently is just how you can find out you don’t really know someone as well as you think, even despite growing up with them. Before these few weeks, I would never have imagined that you two were fucking each other. Not seriously entertained the notion, anyway. Jokes, always joking, it was just a bit of a laugh, to tease the two of you about liking cock, but there was never any sincerity in it.  
  
Well, maybe Matt at a stretch, but even then I’d put it down to wanting to find out about every single thing possible in life. And I guess in a weird way, with you, he is. After all, it is a thrilling and controversial experience to start fucking your best friend of almost 20 years.  
  
“She won’t understand _this_ ,” I protest feebly. “It’s not the same.”  
  
You don’t reply to me immediately, but instead turn your body slightly, and pull Matt’s around against you, sealing his lips in a furious kiss. You’re both sloppy, desperate, as your tongues clash, mouths half-open and uncaring at how messy it all looks from the outside because you’re too caught up in sensation. Matt groans at the resumption of your coupling, and I watch as his hands begin clutching at you again, no doubt hungry now to rip off your clothes and have his way with you.  
  
I find myself wanting him to fulfil his desire.  
  
Fuck, this is a very bad situation, I need to get out.  
  
“Stop.”  
  
That’s all I can muster. And as you pause to grin at me, I can see in your eyes that you don’t believe it either. Even if it wasn’t in the pathetic tone of my voice, I’m sure it’s written all over my face just how much I’m liking this.  
  
“No,” you murmur.  
  
You close your eyes as Matt’s lips nip and his tongue licks its way down your neck, all the while rubbing at the increasingly prominent lump in your jeans with the heel of his palm.  
  
My skin feels like it’s just been set on fire as I watch the scene unfold in front of me; the two of you stimulating each other so openly and fiercely, with no sign of stopping, despite how far this threatens to go.  
  
I bite back a moan, choking on it, not yet ready to completely give in and let this whole depraved occurrence of voyeurism play out once again.  
  
“Please, Dom,” I plead. “Stop.”  
  
This time, you just shake your head, and start tugging at the button and zip on Matt’s trousers, wanting to get to the reward you know awaits you inside. He’s been hard for some time already, I’m sure; he always was a fucking horny bugger, the whole time I’ve known him. And the fact that I’m here in the open now watching the two of you, probably just drives him even more insane with lust, and needs to fuck you or be fucked as soon as possible.  
  
I feel myself press hard against my jeans as his hands snake under your shirt, grazing over nipples and evoking a cry of want from your lips. His fingers explore your skin all over, roaming haphazardly and quickly, too greedy to take time to get to know each shape of muscle and bone, just wanting to feel the whole of you. You don’t seem to mind, groaning as you unbutton his jeans and tear open the fly, before slipping a hand down the front to take hold of him over his boxers.  
  
Matt grunts and bucks into your hand, his eyelids heavy and gaze fixed on your face as you touch him. He looks so raw and animal when you have your hands on him, as though every time you do this you wake something he hides away from the world, that no-one else gets to see; the truly dark, masculine side of him. And it feels the same way for me when I look at the two of you like this. You unleash something I never even knew was there, tearing through me from some ancient, instinctual place to make me want so fiercely it’s a little frightening.  
  
I watch your fingers as they manoeuvre back and forth over the hard shape of Matt’s erection, pushing in here and there expertly to make him shudder and moan and beg you for more. I find my hands fidgeting as you continue to stimulate him, wanting so much to see more but knowing I should leave while I still can. All I need to do is force my legs to move and march right out that door. Easy in theory. Hard in practice. They just won’t budge because the rest of my body tells them not to; it wants to stay and carry on feeling these building sensations of arousal, flooding me with testosterone and endorphins.  
  
Having enough of your teasing hands down his trousers, Matt decides to speed things up by undoing your jeans and pulling your cock flush out of them into his palm, gripping you firmly. My gaze is fixed on the way your eyes roll back into your head at his bare touch, and your soft, flushed lips part slightly to allow the escape of a quiet moan. The sound makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and I find my blood pumping hard through my veins and pooling between my legs as I continue to watch you.  
  
Matt begins quick, hard strokes of your cock, wasting no time in ratcheting up your arousal as quickly as possible, and I’m unable to stop my own hand from straying down to grab my hard cock through my jeans. I can’t stifle the moan at the sensation this time, and you open your eyes to look at what I’m doing to myself. At the smug, amused smile that stretches onto your lips, I release myself in shame and turn my head to look away. I’m still a fucking disgrace.  
  
“There’s no need to be ashamed,” I hear you murmur. “There’s nothing wrong with feeling good about this.”  
  
I still can’t look back at you, even though I want to, and my damn body is screaming at me to enjoy this.  
  
“But, Kelly....” I mumble, shaking my head. “I just can’t...”  
  
I can hear the two of you breathing hard, though you seemed to have paused for a moment in your groping of one another, and I look back to see you both watching me. Your hand is still in Matt’s trousers and your cock peeks out of the top of your jeans, hard and hungry for sex.  
  
“She will understand, trust me,” you say firmly.  
  
The look in your eyes makes me start, because it seems as though there’s something more behind your words than you’re letting on. You honestly believe she will not be angry about me liking this. But how can you be so sure? Is there something you know that I don’t?  
  
“How do you know that?”  
  
You just smile wickedly at me, your eyes dancing.  
  
“You’d be surprised at the kind of women who like bloke on bloke action, you know,” you inform me. “Usually more mature, and attached. Married with kids even.”  
  
I stare at you incredulously once again. You’re just about telling me that you know Kelly likes this sort of thing. How in the _hell_ can you know that?! Who the fuck asked her?!  
  
But even as the questions form in my head, they’re overtaken by a stronger wave of arousal at the thought of my wife accepting this. I swallow hard and feel the blood pulse in my cock, wanting so much to give in and just revel in the pleasure. If Kelly doesn’t mind this, if she _likes_ it even...oh God, I don’t know what the fuck I’ll do. This whole dilemma hinged on my guilt about hurting Kelly, but if that’s not going to be the case, it changes thing completely.  
  
“You think she’ll...be okay...with this?” I ask tentatively.  
  
At the grin that spreads across your face, I can see that you know you’ve got me now. That simple question was a surrender of my will, a giving in to your proposal, and there’s no going back.  
  
“I think,” you start, pulling Matt’s cock slowly from his boxers while you speak, “That things will turn out much better than you expected.”  
  
You shove down Matt’s trousers over his hips a little, and then begin to trail open-mouthed kisses down his throat. Bunching up his shirt, you continue your path down his chest, licking at a nipple on the way, making him squirm and gaze at you from under heavy eyelids.  
  
I find my throat constricting and stomach knotting as your mouth dips lower and lower, across his belly and down to his abdomen. I know where this is going, and I should tell you to stop, but I don’t want to at the same time. I’ve seen you fuck, but I’ve never actually seen either of you suck cock, and in my head it seems like a huge leap forward. I don’t know why, because in reality it isn’t, but to me the gesture is much more intimate and immediate than a shag. Personal, even. Because you’re not getting the pleasure out of it, not really, you’re just doing it for him.  
  
“Just give her a call and ask her,” Matt murmurs, glancing at me briefly while he waits for your mouth to get to where he wants.  
  
Almost unconsciously my hand slips into my pocket and fishes out my phone, fingers trembling as they trace over the speed dial key. I look back up at the two of you and feel that dark twist of desire in my belly, my cock twitching and calling out to me once again to find some relief. I find my feet shuffling backwards and legs collapsing under me as I discover a chair behind, pressed up against the wall, and sit down, taking in the scene before me.  
  
My cheeks feel hot as I watch your mouth trail back and forth between Matt’s hip bone and the straining head of his cock, not quite reaching it with your lips, but darting out your tongue briefly to taste him. He whimpers with every teasing motion back and forth, and my fingers begin to fiddle with the button on my jeans.  
  
You pause a moment to throw me a wicked sideways glance, cocking your head.  
  
“And you know, we won’t mind if she wants to watch too; the two of you together, enjoying yourselves in front of us,” you growl.  
  
 _Fuck_.  
  
The thought of having Kelly here while you do this is more than I can take. And the fact that you’d like to watch me and Kelly have sex is just too much.  
  
Jesus fucking Christ, Dom, the things you do to me.  
  
I’m unable to control myself any longer, my hands taking over to unzip my fly and pull my cock free from its restraint.  
  
I sigh as I wrap my hand around my hard erection, the relief suffusing my body more than just physical pleasure. I feel a great weight lifting up slowly off my chest as I touch myself, watching the two of you, and finally realising how much I want this, need this.  
  
I love watching you kiss, touch, suck and fuck each other. Shit, I really do. There, I admit it. Because it feels _good_. No, it feels _fucking good_.  
  
Oh, God, the way you look at me as your tongue trails up Matt’s shaft makes me ache, because it’s just about the filthiest thing I’ve ever seen you do, even including last night. Sure, the sex was intense and erotic, but in many ways not nearly as dirty and personal as this. You actually have to want to taste that under your tongue, feel how hard he is under your lips, and concentrate purely on his pleasure. I reckon, if pushed, and probably drunk or high enough, and clearly not already a married man, I could be talked into fucking a bloke. But not into sucking cock, no fucking way would that ever happen. It’s something I will never understand; just thinking about a cock anywhere near my mouth makes me want to gag.  
  
But you sure seem to enjoy it. The way your eyes roll back and lids flutter shut as you run your tongue upwards, playing at the head, reveal just how much pleasure you derive from this activity, doing this for Matt. He moans, trembles, fingers tangling in your blonde locks as you overwhelm him with sensation, and my grip tightens on my cock in response.  
  
The thumb of my other hand presses down on the speed dial and I lift the phone to my ear, head spinning. Long, agonising seconds pass as I hear it ring, before Kelly answers, bright and chirpy on the other end. I greet her automatically before falling silent for a few moments, trying to gather my thoughts.  
  
I swallow hard as I watch you slide your lips up and take the head of Matt’s cock into your mouth, making him cry out at the soft, wet contact. Your lips inch their way bit by bit down the shaft until you take him completely, and begin slow, pressured strokes up and down. This image I can’t erase, don’t want to erase, from my burning retinas as I watch transfixed, my cock hard and surging in my fist.  
  
You open your stormy eyes to stare at me, cock in mouth, and a smile twitching at the side of those lips.  
  
This is it, it’s over, I give in. I don’t want to fight it anymore, and I believe you when you say Kelly will understand. She _has_ to.  
  
Taking a deep breath, still drinking in the expression of rapture on Matt’s features as you suck eagerly, hungrily on his cock, I finally address my wife, heart pounding all the while.  
  
“Kelly,” I start, voice wavering. “We need to talk.”

~*~

END


	11. Chaos (Ending B)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This ending takes Chris down the selfish, morally bankrupt path where he gives in to all of his wants.

Your tongue is hard and probing in my mouth, so strange a sensation. I have no idea why you’re even doing this. What the fuck is going on?! Have you completely lost your mind now?!  
  
Shocked and distressed, I grab you by your shirt and tear your lips from mine, throwing you back, my eyes wide. You stagger backwards, bumping into Matt, who giggles. Recovering quickly, an amused grin spreads across your face and you step back toward me.  
  
I want to shout at you but I have no idea what to say. There’s just nothing in my head. But I can still taste you on my tongue.  
  
“I was just making a fucking point, Chris. That you don’t actually want to kiss us or fuck us, you just like to watch,” you laugh. “So, not a big fucking deal, okay?”  
  
I can’t think. I just stare at your mouth. I lick my lips and still taste you there. I swallow hard and wonder what the fuck is wrong with me. I can feel everything coming rushing back from last night, and it feels good. My body is starting to remember, starting to flood with those dark urges again, and I don’t want to fight them. Maybe you’re right. Maybe things can be simple. Maybe sex can just be physical and not a big deal.  
  
My mouth is back on yours before I even have time to think it through any more. And this time, it’s because of me. One hand around the back of your neck and the other tangled in your soft hair, I can’t stop myself. You taste so fucking good. I plunge my tongue in your mouth, tasting you over and over again, needing to know how it feels to kiss you like this.  
  
You’re struggling under me, though out of shock more than anything I think. Yes, I’m right because you relax after a moment, and I feel your tongue beginning to respond under mine. I cradle the back of your head and grip your neck harder with my other hand, guiding us in our motions to deepen the kiss even more. I hear and feel you groan under my mouth, and the sound makes me harden, rushing chemicals through my veins and swimming in my head. This is good, so good, even more than I would have thought.  
  
I know that this is me amped up on bloody testosterone again, affecting my brain and my judgement, but I honestly don’t fucking care anymore. Anything that feels this good is worth the fallout. And like you said, it’s just sex. Nothing more. I’m not in love and I don’t want you to be my wife or however the fuck it works. I just want the physical side. It’s simple.  
  
Your hands are fighting at my shirt now, grasping it in tight handfuls to pull me closer and probably in an attempt to wrangle some control from me. No fucking way. You’ve hand the upper hand on me for too long, it has to be my way now, I need it to be. Still, you try to keep a handle on this, one hand slipping down behind me to grab my arse and press my pelvis against yours. I feel you hard against me, like I am, so fucking hard for you, and I hear myself vocalising the gratification into your mouth. Alright, I’ll grant you some leeway to lead the way because it feels incredible and you know more than I do about how this works. I’ve never fucked a bloke, and wouldn’t really have a fucking clue how they like to be touched, though I wouldn’t think it’s that complicated. I know I’m certainly not.  
  
I break my lips away from yours to plant them at your throat; tasting the hot, salty nature of your skin and inhaling the sharp scent of you like this. It’s weird, so fucking weird, because you’re nothing like a woman, obviously, and I have no reference point for the way you smell and taste. It’s just sweat, heat and cologne mixed with something else, something I can’t pin down, but shit, it’s good, and makes me want this even more. And I can hear you breathing, ragged gasps in my ear as I run my tongue along your neck, under your chin to behind your ear.  
  
“Fuck... _Chris_...”  
  
Your voice is low, rough, as I move my lips to your jaw, unable to stop myself from tasting you, and then find your mouth again, hungry for your tongue. My kisses are consuming, deep, and I can feel myself arching over you, pressing you down with my height, which you continue to fight against. I think you like it, enjoy the struggle against someone with a size advantage over you, because it’s something you would never have with Matt, or Jess for that matter.  
  
I grab a fistful of your hair, and slide my other hand down to rest in the small of your back, pulling you closer in a harsh motion. This makes you groan, and confirms my suspicions about you being controlled, and I’m more than willing to play that angle with you. To be honest, I don’t think I could be anything but brutal with you now, because that’s what my physical want boils down to. I just need this, and need to take it from you because it feels so fucking good.  
  
I feel another pair of hands on me, and quickly realise its Matt; one hand snaking up my spine with nimble, curious fingers, and the other clasped at my hip to feel the push of my pelvis against you. This is another strange sensation, because I’ve never had more than one person touch me at a time, not like this, and it’s fucking weird. But shit, it feels good too, to be able to kiss you hard and have your body against mine, and then have Matt pressed up against my back and his lips on my neck as well.  
  
His hand slips from my hip to brush over your arm, and then slide around the front to squeeze between our bodies. I shudder as I feel his fingers probe inwards, his knuckles pressing against my jeans as he flattens his hand and then grabs at you through your trousers. You break our kiss to choke out a groan, and for the first time in this heated exchange I see the expression of want in your eyes. It’s staggering, the rawness there, nothing but sex and a need for me that I would never have imagined in a million years. It must be there in my eyes too, because you grin at me, such a wicked smile, it makes my heart race.  
  
But I quickly find my eyes rolling back as Matt turns his hand around to squeeze me too, those fucking agile little fingers of his finding the shape of me perfectly through my jeans, making me shiver. His breaths feel hot on my skin, as he leaves a rapid trail of open-mouthed kisses along my neck to my earlobe, which he takes between his teeth. For a few moments, I forget you in all of this, because Matt’s hand over my cock and mouth against my ear makes my head spin, and pulls hard at my insides with desire. He bites down on my earlobe, hard enough to make me jump, but I’m surprised at the moan that emerges from my throat at his actions too. He always was a bloody good seducer, and now I’m on the receiving end of it. I don’t mind one fucking bit.  
  
I turn my head to look at him, and find another mouth upon mine before I can even process what is happening. But I just give in and go with it, dumbfounded at the completely different taste and feel of his kiss compared to yours. He’s faster, more assertive than you, his tongue nimbler and lips thinner but it still feels fucking incredible, and surreal. I turn my body to face him so I can get a grip on his neck; it seems so small and fragile under my thick hands, just like the rest of him. I feel like I could break him, or at least bend him until he screams. That doesn’t sound like a bad idea, and something I might have to explore later. But for now, it’s just good to taste him, hear him fighting for breath under my mouth, one hand tangled in my hair and the other still on my cock.  
  
And I’m not entirely surprised by how skilled he is at touching me like this; knowing him he’s had a lot of practice, and not just with you. He pretty much said as much the other day when telling Tom and Morgan about his best experiences. He knows how to grip me over my jeans just enough to make my belly ache in need, but not enough to give true satisfaction. It just makes me more crazy for his touch, which I’m guessing is the point, and I slip my hand down to grab his wrist roughly and force him harder against my cock. He chuckles into my mouth, which just incites me further, and I tighten my grip on his neck, deepening my kisses.  
  
Matt doesn’t fight me, just lets me overwhelm him with my greed, his fingers still working skilfully to press and grasp me, making my heart race. His hand in my hair strays down to my neck and back up again, his fingernails scratching gently over my scalp as he takes my tongue between his lips. He starts to suck on it, slowly, and the sensation, combined with his hand in my hair like this, makes me shiver and cry out. I’ve never heard myself make noises like this before, so guttural and needy, but I can’t help the way they emerge from my throat as I’m flooded with this dark, intense pleasure.  
  
My hands claw at his shirt, and I’m shocked to find I’m shaking, and too overcome with need to know what I actually want to do with him and to him. I guess I should be touching his cock like he is mine, or at least trying to undress him, but the connection between my mind and my hands is being impeded by lust. So I just grab, pull at his clothes with one hand, and yank at his hair with the other while I kiss him again, unable to stop.  
  
And seemingly Matt likes it rough too, his grip tightening on me and a moan wrung from his throat as I treat him brutally in my passion. But this time he counters, his body pressing harder against me and his mouth pushing upwards in an aggressive kiss, muscles tense. He isn’t always so submissive, I begin to see, and he’s successful in wrangling back control of our encounter, despite my size and fervour. It’s him that directs our motions now, his fingers curling around my wrist to guide my hand around to his arse, making me grab it and push our pelvis’s harder together.  
  
His hand no longer squeezes at me through my jeans but it doesn’t fucking matter because I can feel the hard heat of his erection rubbing against mine in his trousers, making my head spin. I never thought I’d enjoy the sensation of another bloke’s hard cock against my own, but my body doesn’t seem to realise that, because it rushes with angry, hungry need for more. I don’t care that it’s a bloke making me feel this way. I don’t even care that it’s Matt; my bandmate, my friend, that I’ve known for so many years. Fuck it all. I just _want_.  
  
One of Matt’s hands has crept up to my chest, nimble fingers deftly undoing the two top buttons before I’ve even noticed, and then messing in the hair there. It’s a bit weird, but I don’t stop him, and it occurs to me that it’s probably a bit of a novelty for him, normally being used to you. I’ve always been the more masculine bloke of the band, you two appearing fairly androgynous at times, and Matt must not be that used to body hair in someone he wants to fuck. So I just let his fingers play there, clawing and curious, and he groans into my mouth again, clearly turned on by the difference he feels in me.  
  
I notice that you haven’t said or done anything for these few minutes that me and Matt have been entangled in one another. I wonder what you’re thinking. Or doing. There’s no doubt you’ll be getting off on this, you pervert. I know. Pot. Kettle. Black. I don’t give a fuck.  
  
 _Shit!_  
  
Matt fucking bit me, the little prick. Sunk his teeth into my bottom lip when I was thinking about you. I can taste blood in my mouth and pull away, swearing at him. He grins at me wickedly, and I know he gets off on the kink. I hear you chuckle from behind me, obviously not that surprised by his actions. Your fingers snake around his over my neck and around the front of my chest, and you prise his hands off me, replacing them with your own. I feel your lips and hot breath at my neck, and my eyes roll back briefly as you press wet, hungry kisses up to my earlobe. You spin me around, encircling me in your arms to pull me away from Matt. My stomach knots at your possessiveness of me. I like that you feel that way about me. Want me for yourself.  
  
Your mouth is back on mine, but strikingly different to Matt’s, and even to your kisses before. You take my injured lip between your own and suck gently on it, before lapping at the wound with your tongue. I wince, it stings, but the contrast of pain with your slow, wet motions makes my head fuzzy. _Fuck_ , it’s erotic. More than I would have imagined. You cradle my head with your hand as you continue on, and I just let you, overwhelmed by the way you make me feel. I moan low, slightly painfully, and my hands tangle back into your hair, unsure what else to do.  
  
When you break away from me, your lips are flushed, along with your cheeks, and you’re grinning at me with that 1000 watt smile of yours. I can’t help but smile back, stupidly, and I have no idea why I’m even doing it. You’ve done something to me; made my heart race ridiculously, made my lungs burn, turned my body on so much I can’t think straight.  
  
Ha.  
  
“He gets a bit carried away sometimes,” you murmur, motioning to Matt behind me. “Can take some getting used to.”  
  
I just nod, swallowing, my head too blurry with desire to form coherent sentences. You lean your face back in to press a soft, wet kiss to my lips again briefly, before pulling back to stare into my eyes with your stormy grey ones.  
  
“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” you grin.  
  
That would have sounded almost tender if it wasn’t for the heated edge to your voice. The innuendo doesn’t go unnoticed, believe me, and I can’t help but close my mouth over yours again, taking you a little by surprise. I’m afraid if I don’t do this I’ll end up saying something fucking stupid and you’ll laugh at me. I’ll end up sounding desperate, whiny and inexperienced, all of which I am of course, but it doesn’t need to be said out loud now, does it?  
  
So I’ll cover it with hungry kisses and clutching hands, and hope you don’t notice how much I have no idea what I’m doing or where all of this is leading exactly. I mean, I’m not a complete twit; the way your hands fiddle at my belt and fly tell me my cock is going to get a right seeing to in some form or another, but the specifics elude me. I don’t know what you want to do to me, either of you, and I’m unsure how far I’m willing to take things anyway.  
  
Not that I’m complaining so far. My body starts to burn as I feel Matt against me again, and I can’t help but smile against your mouth as he grabs at my arse with both hands. Cheeky little git. Wouldn’t surprise me if he has an arse fetish, even with men. But then he moves his hands up to my hips and replaces them with his pelvis, pushing the heat of his erection in his trousers against my arse. My smile fades as I’m filled with that animal want once more, and swallow hard as I feel you finish unzipping my fly, my belt jangling as it hangs free.  
  
The grunt in my throat changes into a groan as you slip a hand into my trousers, not bothering with touching me through my boxers, just diving straight inside them to take hold of me. Fuck, it feels good. I feel every nuance of movement as you wrap your fingers around me, my cock feeling so fucking hard and hot in your grip, my lungs burning as I struggle for air. I can hardly believe how much I need this, need you, to do this to me, touch me this way. It would’ve seemed like such a bizarre and ridiculous concept only a few weeks ago, but not anymore. I’m pulsing, twitching in your hand as you just hold me for a moment, before beginning quick, deep strokes.  
  
I kiss you harder, trying to keep some semblance of control over myself and the situation, but I know it’s all in fucking vain. It feels way too good, it’s all too much for me to cope with to be honest, I’m burning up from the inside out. You make me feel these horrendously dark and incredible urges, like nothing I’ve ever experienced before, and my body doesn’t know how to deal with it. Simply the sensation of your hand up and down on me makes my belly tight and hot, sending me hurtling upwards on a slope of intense pleasure.  
  
My hips buck into your hand, almost unconsciously, my body’s desperate attempt to generate more and more sensation, despite the fact it can’t handle what it’s already receiving. Because my mind is too clouded, to thickened with desire, to know any better. I gasp and moan into your mouth, still trying to kiss you as you grip me with your hot palm and fingers, but I know I’m getting sloppy, careless in my need. You take a firmer hold of the back of my head, steadying me and tearing your lips away from mine to begin kissing at my throat again. Probably because of my lousy kissing, and I’d say sorry but can’t string the words together.  
  
I don’t mind it this way though, because Matt’s mouth is on the other side of my neck, licking and nibbling at the skin of my shoulder and just below my jawline. God, it feels fucking wonderful, having both of you there like this, kissing my skin at the same time, and I feel like I’m catching on fire all over. Matt’s hands slip from my hips and sneak up under the material of my shirt, fingers tracing curiously over the skin of my stomach. His touch soon becomes quick and greedy, wanting to know how my body feels under his hands, and he moves them upward over my ribcage and across my chest. Palm-flattened, he roves the muscles and bones he finds there, fingers dancing in my hair, and I hear him growling and panting as he continues to kiss my neck.  
  
Matt’s body is now flush against mine, his erection grinding against my arse as his hands clutch at me. They depart from under my shirt for a moment as he replaces them over the top, beginning to undo the buttons, not that there are many left to open now. Your free hand presses flat against my bare chest as my shirt falls open, but I barely notice, much too distracted by your other hand on my cock. Your touch is so fucking persistent, not giving me even the slightest chance to relax or compose myself, and I know I’m probably being much too vocal for where we are. But I can’t help it. These feelings you stir up in me, so deep and uncontrollable, they are starting to consume me and overtake any sane thought I might have left.  
  
One of my hands has come down to grip your wrist, not to guide you or show you how I want it, but simply to hold on for dear life. You don’t need my help, fucking hell, anyone would think you’ve been touching me this way forever, because it’s just how I want it, need it. Matt’s mouth is back at my ear again, and the sounds coming from him just make things worse; his desperate mewling and grunting sending shockwaves of pleasure through my body. I can’t believe how much he’s getting off on this, and he’s not even the one touching my cock.  
  
Oh fuck. Now he is.  
  
His hand has slipped down to clasp over yours, joining it in the firm, quick movements that are sending me ever closer to the edge of oblivion. It’s an indescribable sensation, having both your hands on me at once, and I can’t do anything except groan pitifully, my head lolling back and eyes closed. This fire is hurtling through me like a freight train, and I can’t stop it, it’s speeding out of control too quickly. It’s too much, Dom, _fuck_ , it’s all too much. Your mouths, your hands, his voice, your breaths; my body is burning up, I can’t take it, I just can’t.  
  
I open my eyes again. Fuck, bad idea. All I can see is two hands on my cock, and you turn your face to glance at me, the heat in your eyes both startling and erotic in equal measure. I open my mouth to voice my concern, but it’s taking all of my strength just to hold myself together. I swallow and try again.  
  
“Dom…” I choke. “It’s too much, I…”  
  
I’m interrupted by my own whimpers as Matt’s fingers begin to play at the head of my cock. _Shit_. This just keeps getting worse.  
  
“Please…”  
  
I’m begging now. Fuck, I’m pathetic, aren’t I?  
  
“I can’t…stop,” I breathe into your ear. “It’s too…Dom…”  
  
I’m repeating myself, my brain doesn’t work anymore, no blood getting through to it I suppose.  
  
“Just let yourself go,” you murmur into my ear. “Feel this. Feel us touching you.”  
  
That’s not helping. I feel my pelvis beginning to move more erratically now. You need to stop, I’m getting so close.  
  
“Lose yourself in it. Let go, Chris,” you whisper again.  
  
Oh fuck, this is too much. Your hands, your god damn hands feel fucking incredible. On my cock like this, beating me off, both of you, moving in time. I can’t take much more.  
  
“Come for me,” you growl.  
  
You pull your face back to look me in the eyes, so dark and filled with raw desire.  
  
“Come for me.”  
  
That pushes me over. It’s all it takes. And I do. I come for you. Hard, so fucking hard, I’m falling, gasping your name and driving into your hands. I see black, my body shuddering and jerking as you wring this orgasm out of me, tearing through me like fire. It almost hurts, it’s that good, and I writhe and groan like a man possessed, overcome by the intensity.  
  
You continue to pull and press at me even as my orgasm starts to fade, drawing out all the aching aftershocks and making me tremble. I breathe hard, my forehead coming to rest on your shoulder at some point, and my body becomes awash with shivering completion. I feel my own sticky release over my cock and on my belly, but I can’t do anything except sigh and whimper against you, yourself and Matt now bearing much of my weight. You’ve destroyed me and it feels fucking fantastic.  
  
I raise my head a little to move my lips against your ear, whispering so quietly into it, breathless.  
  
“Dom…fuck…oh god, Dom…”  
  
I babble, murmuring, saying your name over and over. I know Matt is as much to thank for all this, his hand was on me too, his body against mine, but for some reason I’m fixed on you. You’ve gotten under my skin.  
  
Bastard.  
  
I turn my face to capture your mouth in a sloppy kiss, stopping the rambling nonsense that keeps spewing forth from my mouth after you fried my brain. It’s probably shit, I know, my tongue all over the place because I’m so shattered, but you still respond to it. When we break apart, I feel slightly indignant at the look on your face, the gleam in your eyes. You look so fucking satisfied with yourself, because you know you made me cross the line and then broke me with the pleasure you gave. Okay, fine, you’ve won this time. If it feels this good, it’s worth it.

That cheeky little smirk appears on your face, the one you get sometimes when you’re in mischievous or playful mood. I’m not entirely surprised, given the circumstances, and I can only imagine what is running through your head right now. A weird barb of self-consciousness suddenly comes over me at the thought, and I find myself wondering if you mind what just happened. A bit fucking stupid of me, I know, because you started this really, but I can’t help it. I made a mess of you, as well as myself, and came so quickly it’s almost laughable.  
  
I start as I feel Matt’s hand on me move again, and you loosen your grip to allow him to hold my softened, sticky cock himself. He slips around to my side and presses his lips to my neck, his breathing still noticeably hitched and he plants open, wet kisses on my skin. I shudder and choke as he tightens his grip and passes several slow strokes up and down my cock, the come providing a slippery, slightly resistant lubricant to his motions.  
  
My body protests, I’m much too highly sensitized after orgasm for this kind of touch, and I claw at him weakly with shaky hands. If he expects me to be ready to go again right now, he’s in for disappointment. I do have stamina, but shit, not that much, and definitely not straight after coming as hard as I did just then.  
  
“For fuck’s sake – Matt, god – stop,” I gasp.  
  
He chuckles but submits to my request, removing his hands from me before reaching for tissues and handing some to me and you. Fuck knows where he found them, somewhere in all the crap that’s stored in this room, but I’m grateful for something to clean myself up with. The room is hot and silent as I concentrate on wiping down my cock and belly, neither of you voicing your opinion over what you did to me. Though I suppose words aren’t really needed; there isn’t much to explain. Clearly you both have no problem with me participating in what you’d begun years ago, and you’re not wondering why I want to take part now either. Not that it’s hard to figure out, I know. Wanting a fuck is a good enough reason.  
  
Matt pulls a small packet of wet wipes from the back pocket of his jeans and hands them to me. Why the hell he is carrying those around, I can only imagine. And why he specifically wants me to use them, I don’t know. Still, I take them from him and continue to clean myself up, watching as his eyes come back to fix on you again. The way he looks at you makes my breath catch in my throat. So predatory and determined; his gaze burns with the desire to touch you, take you, feel you. I don’t know how I’d never seen it before these last mad weeks. His hunger for you is obvious.  
  
Matt approaches you as you continue wiping your hand down with tissues, a mischievous smirk gracing his lips. He takes hold of your wrist and brings the dirty hand up between you, pressing his body close to yours. I stop dead in my motions as his tongue begins lapping at your hand, licking the remaining come from your fingers slowly and deliberately. Horrified, I begin to think it’s probably the filthiest thing I’ve ever seen him do. And I’ve seen him do a lot of wrong things. But this, this just seems utterly depraved.  
  
I watch a grin spread across your face, and you stare at him from under heavy eyelids as his mouth sucks and licks at your hand, drawing up the remnants of my sticky mess. You take hold of the back of his head with your hand, then force him into a deep kiss, his tongue no doubt still covered with what he’s been tasting. I find myself swallowing hard, watching with morbid curiosity as the two of you share the flavour of me, of what you provoked my body into giving to you. I know that it’s sick, not something I would want to do at all, but you both seem to be enjoying it from the groaning, gasping noises you make.  
  
I find myself staggering back against a table, dumbfounded and trousers still open, as you begin to maul each other again with need. You hands wander, grabbing expertly here and there to draw pleasured grunts and grinding of hips from one another. It’s breathtaking to watch how attuned the two of you are to each other’s bodies; beautifully synchronous and complementary just as you are when you play music together. Shirts are peeled off quickly, easily, Matt’s lips leaving a hot, wet trail of kisses across your bare chest and shoulders. You claw at his now ruffled, dark hair, taking in sharp breaths through your flushed lips as you allow him to ravage your body, your eyes dark.  
  
I can hear you murmuring, swearing to one another as hands continue to grope and lips meet briefly and frequently during your exchange. Matt’s hands grasp at your belt, occasionally dropping down to squeeze at the desperate bulge in your trousers, making you groan and your eyes roll back in your head. But you counter quickly, pulling open his trousers with skilled flicks of your fingers down the fly, and slip a hand inside, taking hold of him. The cheeky fucker isn’t wearing any underwear, and this just makes it easier for you to pull his cock free and begin slow, hard strokes.  
  
I watch him shudder and the muscles in his arms tense as he grips your shoulder and arm, sensation overwhelming him. But my eyes keep being drawn back down between his legs, to the hot heat of him in your hand, his head sliding in and out of view above your thumb and forefinger. It’s almost hypnotic to watch; the way you move your hand so fluidly, so consistently to build a steady rhythm for increasing the tension up and up and up inside him. With each stroke, his hips buck and soft noises emerge from his open mouth, eyelids fluttering. He loves this.  
  
But you’re far from done with him, not satisfied with just wanking him off like you did me, and you urge his body backward toward the wall with your other hand on his hip. Matt submits, shuffling backward and not really caring where you’re driving him, because your hand remains on his cock, working with precision to generate intense pleasure. His head falls back to rest against the concrete, and his knees bend, letting the wall take some of his weight.  
  
I see you turn your head a little to throw me a shifty, mischievous look, that smirk returning, before moving swiftly to surprise both myself and Matt with your intentions. You drop to your knees and take him in your mouth faster than my brain can register, and all I feel is a blush burn in my cheeks and that tight, hungry darkness stir in my belly again. Matt groans pitifully, but I can’t take my eyes off you; the way your cheeks become concave with suction and your lips creep higher and higher along his length before pulling back to start again.  
  
My heart pounds as I watch you, and I feel suddenly dirty again, seeing you do this to him. It’s ridiculous, I know, after watching you fuck him last night, but somehow this is different. I’ve only heard you do this act to one another, not seen it, and it seems more personal, more immediate than anything I’ve witnessed so far. It’s more than just shoving your dick inside any warm body; it takes a measure of selflessness and trust for you to do this to someone else. That, or you’re just a whore who likes cock in his mouth.  
  
But somehow, I don’t think that’s it, that’s not what I see in you. Matt, perhaps, but not you. It’s only because he’s your best friend that you can do this for him; you wouldn’t just blow any random guy, only him. And maybe me. I feel myself twitching again at the thought.  
  
My eyes follow the draw of your wet lips up and down his shaft, the shine of your saliva on his cock and indication of how lubricated you’ve made it for him. It’s clear he’s reaping the benefits, from the low, choking moans that shudder out of him every now and then. You pull your mouth back further to slide your tongue out to play, sliding over the head of Matt’s cock and probing the ridges and folds you find there. Your tongue curls, licking slowly, tasting him, and I can’t help but think what that would feel like if you were doing it to me.  
  
I try to bite back a groan at the thought, but fail, and my cock grows hard again, hungry for more from you. I see a small smile tug at the corner of your mouth as you continue to fellate Matt, and I know you heard me, aware of how much I’m enjoying this. You persist in the firm, eager motions of your tongue, lapping at him quickly for a moment to evoke a whimper and grasping of his hands. Then you slow again, drawing your tongue back to just press gently at the very top, the tip of your tongue dabbing on and off in tease.  
  
I can see a sticky line of mixed saliva and pre-come hanging between your mouth and the head of his cock as you draw your tongue back, and the sight makes my blood burn in my veins. It should be disgusting, repellent, but instead makes me horny as fuck, and I feel the urge to engulf your sticky mouth with my own. God, that’s filthy, I don’t suck cock, but your mouth looks as inviting as hell right now. I _need_ you.  
  
Before you get a chance to replace your mouth and tease him some more, Matt pulls you to your feet, closing his lips over yours, taking what I was longing for. He kisses you hard, mad with lust now, and rips open your jeans. Clearly he’s had enough of the pleasurable torture, yanking down your trousers and boxers, shoving them over your slim hips and letting them drop to your knees. His hands are on you quickly, taking your cock in a firm grip and drawing a grateful sigh from you in the process. But his other hand fiddles in his pocket again, and I’m amazed as he pulls a small tube of lube from it. Fuck, he’s _always_ prepared.  
  
He squeezes some onto his hand, then slicks it over your cock, making it twitch with need. He grips your shoulder and pushes you back against the wall, reversing your positions so you can brace yourself on it. Matt begins quick, firm strokes of his hand up and down your length, returning his lips to yours to kiss you and stifle your cries of pleasure. I watch the way his thumb rubs over the ridges at the centre of your head, making you gasp into his mouth, while his other hand cups your balls and plays with them gently. You buck your hips into his hands, your fingers tangling in his dark locks at the back of his head and your brow furrowed in concentration.  
  
I can’t look away as I see his lubed hand slip down lower from your cock, his fingers exploring backwards between your legs to probe at your opening. Your head lolls, eyes rolling back into your head as he pushes a finger inside, entering you. My hand strays unconsciously to my cock, gripping hard as my eyes dart between the look of ecstasy on your face and the sight of his slim finger sliding in and out of you. Matt’s other hand comes back to your cock, stroking in time with his probing rhythm into you, and the noise this draws is something I’ve never heard from you before.  
  
You moan pitifully, like it hurts, but I can tell from the look on your face that it clearly doesn’t. The sound trails off with a choke, but soft mewling noises still emerge from you now and then as Matt continues on. He adds another finger to his penetration of you and your body shudders, enjoying everything it’s experiencing at this moment. Your kisses become sloppy, frantic in your desperation, and I begin to wonder how much more you can take of this. I’m beginning to wonder how much more _I_ can take.  
  
My cock aches for touch, more than just my own now, and the sight of you being violated this way is doing my head in. You look so good; your cheeks ruddy and expression of pleasured agony on your face, cock slippery and flushed, knees bent and hips pushing down to meet Matt’s fingers as they plunge into you. I can’t take much more, I want it to be me doing that to you, making you make those noises and be the cause of those looks on your face.  
  
My eyes settle on the lube that Matt discarded on a nearby table, and my hand fumbles for my wallet in the back pocket of my jeans. The item I’m after should still be in there, it’s been in there for a while now because usually I just use the stash at home. Or don’t, as the case has been more often than not.  
  
I pull out the plastic-wrapped item and look down at it briefly, swallowing. I can’t really believe I’m contemplating this. A few weeks ago, the thought would never had crossed my mind. But here I am. I need this too much to stop now. I need _you_ too much.  
  
I tear open the packet and put in on myself, eyes darting up to see if you’ve seen what I’m up to. But the two of you are too busy mauling one another to notice me now. I take my chance and dash over to where you’re standing, grabbing the lube on the way through.  
  
You notice me only a split-second before I tear Matt from you, the withdrawal of his fingers from your body causing you to gasp. I see Matt ogle me indignantly, but I throw him a desperate, pleading look before he can voice his protest.  
  
 _Please, I need this_ _,_ I pray silently to him, and he relents, stepping back.  
  
I turn to crush my lips against yours, and you struggle under my fierceness again, trying to process what exactly is going on. But I barely give you time to think as my tongue invades your mouth, darting about furiously, and I pull you away from the wall, causing you to stagger. Your jeans are still around your knees, making your movements awkward, but I’m past caring about proper conduct now. I’ll drag you if I have to.  
  
I bear down on you, guiding you backwards toward the table I’d leant against earlier. I hear you moaning under my kisses, the noises escaping every time our lips part for breath, and the sound sends waves of hormones flooding through my body, inciting me even more.  
  
Your body bumps noisily against the edge of the table as we reach it, and I push you down onto it, forcing you to lie flat on your back as I arch myself over you. My hands are in your hair as I kiss you, my rubber-covered cock pressing against the bare skin of your thighs, and heart pounding nosily in my chest. All I feel is the rush of desire, that heavy, stirring primal need you stoked, and I want to show you what it does to me.  
  
My fingers stray down to between your legs, but I don’t reach for your erection, instead grope lower to slip to the lubricated area that Matt had been playing with. I prod and probe there for a moment, feeling you jump and squirm beneath me as I tease at your entrance, your vocals a mixture of expletives and throaty groans. I press my fingers harder to penetrate you properly, eliciting a gasp from your lips as my finger slips inside, and I feel my blood pulse in my veins.  
  
You feel so hot and wet, but not like a woman; this is different. There’s something deeper, more animal about this, about feeling you this way, and I watch the expressions on your face as I start to move my finger around inside you. Your eyes remain rolled into the back of your head, but your moist lips part to moan softly, overwhelmed by what I’m doing to you.  
  
It’s the same as what Matt was doing, but somehow your reactions are different, and I don’t know why. Maybe because you can anticipate Matt, know what he does to you and how he touches you, but have no idea what’s coming next with me. Truth is, neither do I; I’m in new territory here. Like I said, I’ve been there with Kelly, but that was only with my cock, not my fingers really at all. Besides, this isn’t the same, not in any shape or form, no fucking way is this the same.  
  
My breaths hitch with every inhalation as I slide my fingers in and out of you, watching you and meeting your mouth with desperate kisses when you lean up for them. You’re fevered, frantic now, and I don’t blame you after all that’s gone on, and you still haven’t come. I know I’d be losing my mind right about now if I was you; I’m not very patient when it comes to sex. But I think you already knew that. Know that I can’t control myself. None of this at all would have happened if I could.  
  
Wriggling your legs, you kick off your jeans and boxers that were around your ankles, frustrated by their interference to your pleasures. You then hitch a leg up to wrap around my waist, squeezing my body against yours and rolling your hips into the push of my fingers. I feel my cock throbbing against your inner thigh, and from the way you’re panting and sweating now, I know I need to get on with things. I shift my pelvis down, kissing at your throat and fingers still inside you, and reach for the lube that’s still in my jean’s pocket. I pull it out and squeeze some over the rubber with my other hand, readying myself to be able to enter you.  
  
Can you believe I’m about to do this? I’m about to fuck you, Dom, holy shit.  
  
I drop the lube on the floor and remove my fingers from you, angling my cock to push against your slicked entrance. Your eyes open, forehead pressed against mine, and you stare at me expectantly, breathing ragged. When I start to push in, your chest halts and mouth drops open, holding your breath, and you close your eyes, brow furrowed. My eyes slam shut too, unable to process all that sensory input at once along with the way you feel inside. Swallowing hard, I drive all the way in; I don’t want to draw this out because I’m afraid I might go nuts if I do.  
  
Dear _God_.  
  
You feel incredible. So fucking tight around me, so hot inside, I can’t believe it. I manage to draw a breath, and then choke out an exhalation.  
  
“ _Fuck_ …”  
  
It’s all I can manage right now. I take another breath and then attempt a slow rock of my hips, trying to adjust to the way it feels to fuck you. The first few thrusts back and forth are sloppy and awkward, I have no fucking idea what I’m doing, but then I start to feel the rhythm, you body guiding me as well. My lungs are on fire, not to mention the blood in my veins, and I’m now aware just how good it was that I’ve come once already today; I would have blown within seconds of entering you otherwise.  
  
One of your arms lies back against the table, palm upwards and open, and I draw my hand up almost involuntarily to close over yours, entwining our fingers. My other hand slides up behind your head into your hair, and I hold you this way as I continue to thrust slowly, deeply into you. It feels beyond good to be inside you like this, and I notice my head clouding and throat constricting with emotion. My chest aches with more than just the need for air, and I realize this may be a more difficult act for me than I first thought.  
  
I’m having trouble disconnecting my emotions from the physical sensation; it’s been so long since I had sex that doesn’t actually mean anything, I can’t be inside you without my heart trying to interfere. With every motion back and forth, in and out, I feel myself starting to come undone at the seams, my body trembling in response to the bombardment of emotion. My affection for you from friendship is becoming entangled with the pleasure you bring me now, and I know it’s too much, it’s getting out of hand.  
  
“Chris…”  
  
The way you whisper my name is not like before, not heavy with simple lust and desire, but softer and aching with something far more complex. I dare to open my eyes and find you looking back at me with glazed, grey eyes, the confusion and intensity in them easily recognizable. I know I must look the same. My hand has a mind of its own as it strokes at the side of your face, my thumb caressing your cheek as I hold your gaze.  
  
Penetrating you this way, so closely, so intimately, generates feelings I was not prepared for, with both my heart and my body reaping benefits of the satisfaction and pleasure. I lean down to kiss you, my breaths coming in hard, and I graze your lips with my own, sweetly, tenderly. Your mouth is so soft and wet, I find myself whimpering quietly as I engage you in slow, shallow kisses, knowing this is not helping but unable to stop. As my tongue connects with yours, you moan, responding with just as much vulnerable intensity as I am impressing on you, and I realise I’m not just imagining the change in our interaction. Before, it was all testosterone and cocks and sex, but something has shifted since I entered you and held you close, staring into your eyes like this. You feel it too, and you’re not stopping me.  
  
I close my mouth completely over yours, gripping your hand that my fingers are laced through and cradling your head to engulf you as I kiss you fully. You wrap both your legs around my hips, squeezing me harder against you, and I thrust further, trying to get as deep as possible. There’s a groan from your throat, soft and needy, and I feel your back arch up off the table, pressing your bare chest against mine. Your free hand wanders up to tangle in my hair, fingers playing lazily, trembling almost I think, and as we break apart I’m hit like a ton of bricks by your heavy gaze.  
  
God, don’t look at me like that Dom, you _can’t_.  
  
It’s the same way Kelly looks at me when I’m inside her and we connect on that deeper level. When we’re making _love_. And I realise that’s what this is now. We’re no longer fucking, you and me; this has mutated into something more and it needs to stop, right now. The last thing we need is for you to fall in love with me, or vice versa. It sounds fucking stupid, to think that could happen, but the way I’m feeling right now, and the way it seems to be affecting you too, it’s not really that much of a stretch. And that’s one path we definitely don’t want to fucking go down; it will all end very, very badly.  
  
I slow my motions, just stilling my cock inside you, and swallow hard, still staggered by the look in your eyes. I open my mouth to speak, my breaths coming in hard, warm against your skin.  
  
“Dom…”  
  
I try to get more out, but am struggling. I’m overwhelmed, light-headed and my heart keeps leaping into my throat the more I look at you. Your expression is mixed with conflicting emotions, and I see you frown as you realise I’m having trouble being coherent. You know things have gotten off track too.  
  
“I…we should stop…do something different…” you whisper to me, your chest heaving and shaking. “This is…”  
  
“Too much…?” I offer.  
  
You nod, and I notice the slight alarm in your grey depths, obviously recognising what this had started turning into, like I had. Your legs loosen their grip on me, one sliding down off my hip, and I extricate my fingers from yours, feeling a blush rise into my cheeks at just how intimate that gesture had been. Once my hands are free again, I steady your hips and slide out of you, and once again you gasp at the sensation. I can’t imagine just how sensitised you must be now, after all the fingers and fucking, and I’m drawn again to the sight of your hard, flushed cock. Fuck, you’ve got stamina and patience, I’ll give you that.  
  
I glance over to see Matt staring at us, his hand wrapped around his cock, obviously enjoying the show, but a slightly strange expression upon his face. He looks perplexed, curious, and I know that he sensed the weird turn our coupling had taken for those few minutes just before. I’m sure he’s fucked you enough see the completely different reaction from you, and not just because it’s me instead of him.  
  
I look away, feeling sheepish and awkward, and turn back to where you’re still half-lying on the table, legs open and horny. I feel that fire return, burning away the remnants of lingering emotion and sentiment, restoring my previous hunger to simply fuck you and conquer your body. I look up at your face, my gaze fiery and deliberate, and you crack a smile, staring at me from under heavy eyelids. You too have seemingly recovered from the emotional detour we took, and now look back at me with the same savage need for sex.

I advance on you, pulling you up off the table by your wrists, and spin your body around, much to your surprise. I bend you over, face down now, pressing your chest into the table and hold your arms above your head, pinning you there. You chuckle and pant, clearly approving of my choice of position, and you turn your head to press your cheek against the Formica, grinning. I squeeze your wrists together to fit them under the grip of one hand, and then with the other, reach down to play at your entrance that is still slicked from before. You moan, and your body writhes under my touch, but I’m no longer in the mood to fool around and tease you. I position my cock against your backside again and you clench your teeth, pushing back onto me in want. You want to be fucked again so badly, and I’m happy to accommodate you, my own cock becoming impatient.  
  
Without any more warning, I slip my fingers from you, gripping onto your hip and thrust myself inside you, hard and resolute. You howl at the rough intrusion, but that just makes me grab you harder, hold deeply inside, making sure you can feel the entire length of me. Your body convulses, arms straining against my grip and eyes rolling back, as your mouth falls open. I keep you there like that for a few moments, your body tense, the muscles along your spine like stiff rods, and your chest heaving against the table with your laboured breathing.  
  
“ _Fuck_...”  
  
I hear the first of your curses at me, but the rest trail off into moaning gibberish as I begin to slide in and out of you, quickly and roughly. There’s no hint of the tenderness or care that was present before, because now I just want to dominate you, show you what else I can do, how good I can make you feel. How much different and _better_ I am than Matt. Fuck, I know I’m turning this into a competition but I don’t care. You all think I’m this soft, cuddly teddy bear who could never hurt anyone or do anything particularly bad; that I’m all bluff and bluster. But I want to show you that there are sides of me you don’t know, and I could do so many things you couldn’t ever imagine of me.  
  
So I keep plunging into you, over and over, getting rougher and harder with every stroke, my body arching down over yours as I fuck you. Your eyes are open now, your brow furrowed, and I see you bite your lip and attempt to stifle a moan.  
  
“Oh fuck – Chris – that’s it,” you grunt.  
  
You’re starting to back into my thrusts, sticking your arse out and taking me so willingly. For some reason, this incites me. I don’t want it like this.  
  
“Fuck me – oh God, yes – like that.”  
  
No, this isn’t how it’s supposed to be. I don’t want you telling me how you like it, like I’m doing you a favour, because it still feels as though you’re in control. Despite the fact that it’s me fucking you, it seems like you’re dictating and I’m following. Well, I won’t tolerate that.  
  
My hand on your hip grabs you harder, guiding your hips the way I want them, not the way you want to move them. I pull you onto me forcefully, again and again, driving my cock deeper, and you yelp, surprised by my dominance and wrangling for control. Your eyes glance back at me, startled, almost indignant that I would dare attempt to take the lead, since you and Matt are really the experts in this. But fuck it; this is my turn now. You’ve been the one playing me, torturing me the last few weeks, so now it’s time to pay you back.  
  
“Not so –” You stop, gasping. “Hard... _shit_!”  
  
My fingers are leaving a mark on your skin at your hips where I hold you; I’m pulling and shoving you so roughly now. I lean my face down near yours, my body towering over you, using my bulk to my advantage. I grunt and take sharp breaths in through my nostrils, jaw clenched as you continue to writhe and twist under me.  
  
“Shut up,” I growl.  
  
Your eyes widen, and for a moment I see the recognition that perhaps you’ve got yourself in deeper than you’d thought with me. You wanted to tease me, drive me crazy, make me want you, and now you’ve got it.  
  
I take my hand off your wrists and instead quickly replace it at your neck, holding you down and pressing your face into the table. I straighten back up a little, one hand at your neck and one at your hip, and I begin slamming my pelvis back and forth, forceful and aggressive.  
  
You looking fucking gorgeous like this; pale, vulnerable body pinned to the table, my fingers fixed at the back of your head, and your hands clawing at the Formica as I pound my cock in and out of you, making you wail. You want me to stop, you say so, gasping and pleading, but I know you don’t really, deep down. The way your cheeks are flushed, how your eyes roll back every now and then, and the glimpses I get of your still rock-hard, weeping cock tell me you like it.  
  
Matt has never treated you this way, I can tell, because you always like to feel in control, even when it was him fucking you. He’s never held you down and shown you how you’re going to be given it, whether you like it or not. Not like I can. He wouldn’t dare.  
  
“Fucking hell, Chris...” I hear him murmur from behind me. “Take it easy...”  
  
I don’t turn to address him, just tighten my grip on your neck.  
  
“Can it, Bellamy,” I bark.  
  
He doesn’t say anything else. I think he can tell by the tone of my voice that I’m not fucking around.  
  
I shift the angle of my hips and press my body closer to yours to force you to feel the full weight of me, and penetrate you as far as I can. You howl again, lower and more pitifully now, and I feel your damp body shake under me, sweat gathering at your temples and brow, glistening. The pink hue in your cheeks is fucking beautiful, and I lean my face down to lick at your ear and down your throat, tasting the salty residue there. My breath whispers hot against your face, and I want to laugh at how you can look both terrified and in ecstasy at the same time, unable to make a decision between the two emotions.  
  
I see your hands trembling as they press against the table, sensation overtaking you and rendering you helpless under my will. You squeeze your eyes shut again, brow furrowed as you concentrate on the way my cock feels slamming into you over and over, relentless and merciless against your smaller frame. Your mouth has dropped open now, letting out the pathetic mewling sounds that were trapped in your throat previously, only reinforcing your subjugation.  
  
“Please...fuck... _please_...”  
  
You’re not asking for anything specific but I can take a guess as to what you want. I lean my head to get a look at your cock; straining and flushed, it shifts with every pound of my hips against your arse, the head wet and sticky with copious amounts of pre-come. God, you’re so fucking horny and desperate, but my cock in you is not enough to give proper pleasure, to bring you over, but instead just teases and drives you more and more insane. I love it.  
  
I don’t notice at first, as one of your hands creeps down and slides over your thigh to between your legs. But as soon as you touch yourself, I feel your arse muscles tense around me, and the sigh of relief you let out alerts me to your self-pleasuring. No, you’re not getting away that easily, not by far.  
  
I reach down and yank your hand away, grabbing the other and pinning them both back above your head again. You choke and shake your head in frustration, moaning and struggling under me to indicate your protest.  
  
“Chris...I need...more...” you whimper.  
  
I don’t answer you. In reply, I simply close my arms over, encircling you below me, and drive myself in and out in longer, slightly slower strokes. I know now when I’m hitting that spot you like; your body jumps and trembles, your knees giving a little, and your mouth forms into a small, soft ‘O’ of pleasure. I do this a few more times, watching as you become more and more unravelled, losing your sanity and unable to do anything to change your predicament. The power is intoxicating, it’s hard to stop.  
  
You throw your head back, able to move a little more now without my hand on your neck, and your eyes open, gazing at me. They’re clouded with desire, glazed from the overwhelming nature of what I’m doing to you, and I see now, finally, a complete submission within you. It must be liberating to give yourself over like this, and my mind hums with future possibilities of testing these boundaries in all three of us. But for now, I concentrate on you, and decide to relent in my teasing after you have given in to me.  
  
I release your wrists again and wrap an arm around underneath your chest, pulling you up to press myself against your back. My other hand snakes between your legs, and I grab hold of you, your body shuddering at the contact. You exhale shakily, almost a sigh, and press your hands down against the table, bracing yourself.  
  
“Fuck, your hand feels good on me, so fucking good,” you mumble.  
  
It’s not an inciting phrase of dirty talk; instead an admission of my power over you and a thank-you for some relief, finally.  
  
I resume the hard drive of my cock into you, your back arching in response, and I seal my lips against the hot, sticky skin of your throat. This time, with every thrust of my hips, I slide my hand up and down your cock, firmly holding you in my fist and giving you what you’ve been craving all this time. Your cock is still wet and slippery from the lube, and this mixed with your pre-come creates an easy, fluid motion from top to bottom. You cry out, moaning and bucking against my hand, and then shifting back to take me into you, trying to gather as much pleasure as possible from both back and front.  
  
I can feel the tension beginning to pull at me deep in my abdomen, all this hard fucking and teasing of you finally getting to me. And now, with my hand on your cock, your arse squeezes around me with every push, driving me that little bit closer to the edge once again today. I love the way you feel, so fucking tight and submissive, letting me fuck you like this and enjoying every minute of it. Now it’s you acting like the dirty slut, not Matt, and I think it’s a good change.  
  
Matt apparently seems to think so too because I hear him moan, and look over to see him coming already. His cock spasms in his fist, bursting all over his own bare belly and I notice his other hand down the back of his jeans, back arched. Shit, he’s actually finger-fucking himself, so desperate for it. He always did like the kink, and obviously still enjoyed himself having a wank watching me fuck you.  
  
But I can’t focus on him too long, I’m drawn back to you again, and the way you bend and tense under me. I’m getting rougher now, using my whole weight and height advantage to treat your body brutally; pound into you and pull you hard against me. Both my hips and yours will probably be bruised tomorrow, I’m slamming that hard against the back of you, and my nails begin to dig into the skin of your chest. Your eyes just roll skyward and stay there now, moaning with every thrust into you, and you don’t even seem to care that I’m hurting you.  
  
I groan and swear, breathing heavily in your ear, before craning my neck to capture your mouth in a sloppy kiss. It’s terrible by conventional standards; all tongues and teeth and saliva, but I don’t give a shit because you taste fucking amazing, and respond with just as much fervour. I can hear you breathing raggedly as we break apart, and I’m hoping to God you’re getting close, because I don’t know how much longer I can last.  
  
If it’s even at all possible, I penetrate you deeper, pushing my cock so fucking far into you, not even caring how much this is going to hurt you tomorrow, your body now mine for the ravaging. I’ve never been this rough with anyone before, and I’m sure as hell Matt has never, ever treated you this way. He doesn’t have the height, weight or upper body strength that I do to heave you around like this, to punish your body in ways you’d never even thought possible, and make you cry out, whimper and beg for more.  
  
Your hair is damp and ruffled messily, stuck to the side of your face and back of your neck by sweat, your cheeks bright red from arousal and exertion. Your lips are swollen and wet from my kisses, and your mouth hangs open lazily to gasp in air and sigh out moans. I remove my hand from around your chest, your lungs expanding widely from the release, and replace it at the back of your head, grabbing a handful of your blonde locks. I pull hard and use it as leverage to fuck you, making you call my name in appreciation and lean your head back into my grip. Fuck, I can hardly believe how much you love this.  
  
My hand tightens around your cock and I keep my fist up near the head now, just jerking it back and forth quickly and forcefully at the top. This makes you shudder and I feel you tense hard around my cock, and I let out an involuntary gasp. I force myself to keep control, not wanting to blow it all just yet. I want you to feel me hard and deep inside you when you come, not already soft and satiated; it’s just not the same.  
  
Yanking harder on your hair, I tilt my hips and beat faster with my hand. You start that soft, pathetic mewling sound that you drew from Matt when you fucked him, and your body starts to tremble, jerk, as you slip toward that edge. You’re close now, I can feel it in the erratic bucks of your hips and ragged heaving of your chest as you struggle to breathe, not to mention the pulsing of your wet cock. I draw my lips to your ear, eyelids heavy.  
  
“You love my cock in you, don’t you?” I growl, no idea where these filthy words are coming from. “Love to take it over and over again. Like it hard, don’t you?”  
  
I pound hard into you, once, twice, the third time I feel your body constrict and you choke, one of your hands flying over mine to grab onto your cock as you start to come. I feel the pulse of your cock under my hand as orgasm takes you, hard and violent, and your strangled sounds emerge into a pained moan as you’re flooded with pleasure. Your mouth still hangs open, your brow furrowed and eyes squeezed shut as you ride it out, and I continue to push hard into you, your body convulsing, your come warm and sticky over both our fists.  
  
The squeeze of your arse around my cock as you spasm in ecstasy is too much for me; I can’t hold on anymore and am overcome as orgasm takes me for the second time that afternoon. It’s brief but intense, like the second volley always is; body giving every last scrap of energy it has left to bring me over, but can’t sustain it as long. But fuck, it doesn’t matter, it feels bloody good to come inside you, my damp forehead pressed against your shoulder and I let out a groan as sensation floods me. My hand still grips your hair tightly, I wouldn’t be surprised if I’ve pulled some out, and I dig my hips hard against you, chest heaving.  
  
I’d never have imagined there’d be a day where I’d be coming inside another bloke, let alone that bloke be you. After all these years I’ve known you, grown with you, Dom, and it comes down to this; shoving my cock inside you to make myself feel good and pull equal pleasure out of you at the same time.  
  
Weird, so fucking weird. But then again, when was our life ever normal?  
  
After a few moments the throb begins to ebb away, and I feel my muscles starting to fail in strength, shaking at the exertion I’ve just endured. My knees are starting to give, and my hands ache from clutching you so tightly, my lungs burning for air as I gasp for breath. My grip loosens, weakened, and I take my hand off your cock and out of your hair, seeing that I did in fact pull a few tufts out in my fervour to fuck you.  
  
Dropping my hands to press gently on your back, I pull out, shuddering at the sensitivity and trying to not make a complete mess with the condom. Fumbling, I manage to grab some tissues from the table again and fold it in a scrunched, untidy pile, too shattered to care much at all about neatness. I stagger sideways to rest against one of the other tables, arms shaking as I try to support myself, my hair askew, sticking to the sides of my face and brow. I tug weakly at my jeans that are half-way off my hips, pulling them up a little, but don’t want to chance trying to put any fabric against my cock because of how messy and sensitive I am right now.  
  
I look over at you. You haven’t moved since I pulled out of you. You just stand there, knees buckled, table taking most of your weight, and body shaking. You rest your upper body on your forearms, but your head hangs down between them, forehead pressed against the Formica, eyes wide. Your hair is in disarray, damp and ruffled all over, with large tufts bunched at the back where I had it in my grip. My eyes travel down the complete mess that is your cock and arse; utterly ravaged by my hands and cock, wet and sticky all over, and most likely sore. You look dazed, unable to move or speak, or do much of anything at all except gasp for breath and tremble, thin lines of sweat snaking down your back and legs.  
  
I see you like this and I can’t help the wide grin that spreads itself across my face; I’ve broken you.  
  
My eyes stray from you for a moment to meet Matt’s, and he looks almost as pleased as I am, though slightly dumbstruck. Clearly, I’ve surprised him with my aggression and dominance, and my ego is enjoying the boost it gets from showing the two of you up. I’m not quite the shy and retiring type you thought me to be in terms of sex, now am I?  
  
No longer am I the conservative family man. I’ve slipped into your world of debauchery and depravity, and more than proven myself to be worthy of staying there. My mind sparks with ideas of future encounters; what I want to do to you, to Matt, what I want you both to do to me. The possibilities are endless and exhilarating.  
  
You’re still half-lying there across the table, your head turned to one side now, eyes able to blink and look at me, stunned. I can’t help but laugh. You smile weakly at my amusement, and I can see the sparkle of humour in your gaze, though you’re still too buggered, quite literally, to express a full range of emotions.  
  
Now I’m feeling a little more settled, I sort myself out and zip my trousers back up, raking a hand through my excessively messy hair. I wonder now if I should have kept it short, if it’s going to always end up horribly untidy like this every time I fuck you; not exactly a subtle concealment of our activities. Well, whatever, I’m sure we’ll think of some excuse, and people will believe it. After all, it would crazy to think the three male members of Muse, most of whom are attached in one form or another, are fucking one another, right?  
  
You’ve now managed to roll yourself over slightly, lying on your side but still shattered, a shaky hand running through your tousled locks. I think it’s going to take a while for you to recover from this, and fuck knows tonight’s show is going to be hell on you after all the punishment that arse of yours has taken. I find myself grinning again in pride and amusement. I’ve done well.  
  
My thoughts turn quickly to Kelly as I ponder what is yet to come tonight, and I’m surprised to find those guilty bindings around my heart have slackened and just about disappeared. Perhaps because I’ve taken this risk, finally made a decision about everything; that fucking can be just fucking, and Kelly will simply have to understand. She’s pretty open-minded, I know that for a fact, and although it might take a lot of convincing and hard work, I think we can sort it out.  
  
Because, honestly, our lives have never been ordinary, and never will be, so why should our sex lives be any different?  
  
I saunter over to you, smug smile still plastered on my face, and cock my head as I watch you attempt to gather yourself together. Reaching an arm down, I wrap my hand around the back of your neck and force you into a fierce kiss, taking you by surprise again. Your body is trembling and slight against me, such a change from your cockiness of earlier today, but I don’t relent in my rough treatment of you, kissing you hard.  
  
You struggle in vain for a moment before giving up and moaning softly into my mouth. You enjoy being submissive, and you didn’t even know it before I showed you how.  
  
I pull away to find your eyes hazy with contentment and exhaustion, and a small smile still plays upon your lips. Tracing my gaze over your flushed cheeks and long, dark lashes, I never realised before just how gorgeous you are, and especially so like this; shagged to within an inch of your life and completely satiated. And mine to play with again whenever I want.  
  
“So...” you murmur, your voice hoarse. “Same again tomorrow?”

~*~

END


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